Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 07]

by The Queen's Secret

  But nothing happened. Each day went smoothly. I cared for my baby, sat at my needlework with my ladies, and Owen and I were together for most of the day. Sometimes we rode with a party into the neighboring countryside, but we were always very careful.

  Owen said that Gloucester would have other matters to occupy him which would be more important to him than our affairs. As Protector he had control of the King, although Warwick would have disputed that, for he had been commanded to take charge of Henry by his father and that was well known.

  Moreover, it seemed that Gloucester was losing his popularity. The handsome, swashbuckling adventurer was looking a good deal less handsome, by all accounts. The profligate life he had led was leaving its marks. The people did not like his treatment of Jacqueline; they were aware of his relationship with Eleanor Cobham, and the women of London did not care that he should set a bad example to their husbands by discarding Jacqueline for the sake of one who, it was said, was a harlot.

  He had failed to win Hainault, and one thing heroes cannot be forgiven is failure. Burgundy was now virtually in control of all the territories Gloucester had tried so hard to gain for himself, and Jacqueline had named him, Burgundy, her heir and co-regent of those territories. She had sworn never to marry without his consent, and had declared that she had never lawfully been married to Gloucester.

  “You see,” said Owen, “how very much the marriages of ladies in important positions mean to these ambitious men.”

  I did see and I trembled.

  “But at least,” I said, “this stops Gloucester from turning his attention to us. And people no longer think so tenderly of him. He is becoming a failure.”

  “Let us continue to hope that his thoughts will be fully occupied elsewhere,” said Owen fervently.

  “I don’t trust him,” I said. “I wish they would send him to France and Bedford would come back and govern this country.”

  “Bedford will not leave France, and Gloucester has already done enough to undermine the English position there. They would never send him to France as Regent.”

  “All I care is that he does not come worrying us.”

  “We will outwit him. All we have to do is to be careful.”

  “We are that…and especially so since we heard of this new statute. But I do not trust Gloucester.”

  “Nor I,” said Owen.

  The weeks passed and nothing happened. It occurred to us that, having promised dire punishment to any who dared marry me, Gloucester thought he had settled the matter, and turned his attention to other affairs which I imagined would be more important to him than I could be.

  The months slipped by. Hadham was the perfect dwelling for us. The house was too small for entertaining. Its situation was in a backwater. People were forgetting the existence of the Queen Mother, and I refused to allow my happy life to be disturbed by fears of what dangers might be lurking around us. Even Owen thrust aside his misgivings. As he said to me: “Gloucester is pursuing his conflict with his archenemy, Beaufort. There is this matter of Beaufort’s accepting a cardinal’s hat from Rome, which gives him a real chance for a grievance.”

  “Well,” I said, “everyone knows that a cardinal’s first allegiance is to the Pope, and that puts his country in second place.”

  “Beaufort should think twice before accepting.”

  “It is certainly sometimes a millstone around the neck.”

  “Well, let us rejoice because it takes Gloucester’s mind from us. Then there is his new wife, Eleanor Cobham. They say he uses a great deal of time and energy in her company.”

  “What amazes me is that he is still allowed to retain his power.”

  “I should have thought that, after all the havoc he has wrought, some attempts would be made to curb him.”

  “He is the late King’s brother.”

  “But the Duke of Bedford is above him. After what he has done, I should have thought they would have seen that he could cause more trouble.”

  “There is no doubt that things are not going well for the English in France, and it began with the uneasy relationship between England and her ally Burgundy.”

  “Do you think Burgundy is necessary to the success of the English?”

  “I think the quarrel between the houses of Orléans and Burgundy was England’s biggest asset in the war.”

  “And Gloucester’s foolish attempt to get territory by marrying Jacqueline, which ended in failure for him, is destroying that asset.”

  “Undoubtedly. It would never have happened if the King had lived.”

  “Do you really think that Henry could have stopped Gloucester entering into an alliance with Jacqueline?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “And you really think Gloucester would have obeyed him?”

  “He would have obeyed Henry…if no one else.”

  “Well, it is done and Burgundy is still an ally of Bedford, even though the bonds are weakening.”

  “Well, of course, the two are friends and brothers-in-law. It was a wise move of Bedford’s to marry Burgundy’s sister…with Burgundy’s consent.”

  “It is a true love match, they say.”

  “So much the better for them both.”

  “Yes,” I said. “When one has the benefit of a happy marriage and learns the joy it can bring, one wants the same for everyone else.”

  “That is because you have a generous nature, my love.”

  “Oh, how glad I am that we were bold and brave. Just think, Owen. We might have turned our backs on all this happiness…just because we were afraid to take it.”

  “My dearest,” he said. “I hope you will never regret it.”

  I shook my head fervently. “No matter what awaits me in the future, I would not have missed the happiness I have with you for the whole world,” I told him.

  And so we continued in our blissful existence. It may have been that every day seemed more precious to us because somewhere, at the back of our minds, we knew it could not last.

  How long should I be able to live secure with my family in this cocoon of secrecy?

  There was strange news from France. Everyone in the house was talking about it. It was a miracle, some said. It was a wild rumor, said the more prosaic, put about by the French, who hoped to glean some advantage from it. They must indeed be alarmed to try such methods, said others.

  Owen had discovered what it was all about.

  “It’s a peasant girl,” he said. “She declares she hears voices which give her commands from Heaven. Apparently she is told by these voices that France will be strong again, and the English will be driven out of every part of the country.”

  “And the French believe this?”

  “They were skeptical at first, naturally. An uneducated peasant girl from a place called Domrémy…working on her father’s little bit of land…tending the sheep…such a girl to lead the armies of France! You would say the girl was mad…would you not?”

  “And they do not?”

  “It is strange. Apparently she has a way with her. She has accomplished all sorts of difficult tasks. Who would have thought a girl like that could have encountered anything but ridicule?”

  “And what has she encountered?”

  “She persuaded the Governor of Vaucouleurs to arrange for her to have an interview with the Dauphin.”

  “My brother saw her!”

  “Yes. The story is that the men tried to poke fun at her. They took her to Chinon and into a room where the Dauphin was. They took her to one of his friends, telling her that he was the Dauphin and asking her to say what she had to say to him. But she knew they were deceiving her…and she went straight to the Dauphin and would speak to none but him.”

  I was trying to visualize my brother Charles. It was so long since I had seen him. To me he was still the little brother, the youngest among us…following us around with that bewildered look on his little face. I knew he had not wished to be Dauphin. Jean had not wanted that rôle either. The prospect of a crow
n had been thrust upon them. And what of Charles now? What was it like to be a Dauphin but no Dauphin…robbed of his crown which now belonged to my little Henry? What did he think of me…living in the enemy’s camp? What did he think of my mother who had given her allegiance to the conqueror…passing over his crown to my little Henry…agreeing that it should be taken from her own son! Of course, that had made it better for her…to stand with the conqueror rather than the defeated; and when had she ever thought of her family? Her only concern had been for her own comfort.

  It was difficult to imagine my brother Charles confronted by this strange young girl who came with messages from Heaven.

  “And he received her?” I murmured. “This peasant girl!”

  “It seems she overawed him as she had others.”

  “Can it be that she is indeed a messenger from Heaven?”

  Owen said: “There is undoubtedly a strange quality about her. They say there is a certain radiance…a fearlessness…an indifference to ridicule. Her faith shines through her. She believes she has been selected from on high to be the savior of France.”

  “The army will soon put an end to that.”

  I wanted to talk about the progress Edmund was making.

  “We shall have to move from Hadham,” I said. “For one thing the sweetening is becoming very necessary.”

  “We have been here so long. It is a pity. It is an ideal place.”

  “What think you of Hatfield? That would be possible.”

  In due course we decided to go to Hatfield.

  Guillemote was very interested in the news which was coming from France. Naturally she had a great love for her native land. She had always been loyal to me, and during those days when I had had to adjust myself to a new country, her presence had helped me a great deal. Because I had been the wife of an English king, I had regarded myself as belonging to my husband’s country; I understood that this was something Guillemote could never do.

  She was very intrigued by what she heard of the woman they called “The Maid.” I supposed the story of Joan of Arc was one which would arouse interest anywhere. A young peasant girl of no education to whom Heaven had sent voices commanding her to drive the invader from her tortured country!

  It was a ridiculous fancy. Or so it seemed.

  Guillemote had served me faithfully all my life, but I think at this time patriotic fervor stirred within her and she dreamed of marching side by side with The Maid.

  Her eyes glowed when she talked of her.

  “There is an old prophecy,” she said. “France would be ruined by a wicked woman and saved by a virgin maid.”

  The wicked woman, she implied, was my mother; and now here was The Maid.

  Had there been such a prophecy? I wondered. Or were people telling themselves they had heard it at their mothers’ knees?

  I had never heard it. But then should I have done so during my days at the Hôtel de St.-Paul and later in the sequestered atmosphere of Poissy? I was sure that many such prophecies were brought to light after the event which proved them to be true.

  Little had been proved yet of this one, except that The Maid had seen my brother and had aroused in him a love of country to replace his hitherto languid acceptance of defeat.

  And the people believed The Maid. Men were ready to fight beside her with new energy and purpose, because they were certain that God was their ally and that therefore they must prevail.

  Then something happened to make all this seem unimportant to me. I was once more pregnant. I was filled with joy. Another child! And this time there would not be the same anxiety. I was surrounded by devoted friends. We had managed with Edmund, and we should know how to do so with a new child.

  Owen was delighted and, although Guillemote pursed her lips and shook her head and wondered whether I was sufficiently recovered from the birth of Edmund, I could see that she, too, was overjoyed at the prospect of a new baby.

  I suppose I should have been more interested in what was going on, but my mind was wholly absorbed by thoughts of my coming child. So I did not ask myself what was happening at the siege of Orléans and if The Maid and her heavenly allies would succeed against the all-conquering English, but “Will the child be a girl or a boy?”

  The journey from Hadham to Hatfield was a little trying. I rode some of the way because I did not want to arouse suspicions regarding my state of health, but Guillemote insisted that when I looked tired I should take to a litter.

  I must say I was glad to see the walls of the palace before me and to pass under the gateway. I was exhausted by the journey, and Guillemote insisted on my getting to bed without delay.

  My ladies were bustling around me to make sure that everything was in order.

  There was an element of danger in moving to a new place. We had had everything arranged to our satisfaction in Hadham. Here there would be new servants, and servants talk.

  I knew that I could trust Owen and my devoted friends to make sure that we were as safe as we possibly could be.

  I needed to rest for several days after the journey.

  “It has been too much for you,” said Guillemote. “I am wondering whether it wouldn’t have been better to have stayed at Hadham…sweetening or not.”

  “A foul place would have been no good for the baby,” I reminded her. “And we had been there too long already.”

  “Nor was the journey any good for the baby,” retorted Guillemote.

  However, all seemed to be well, and after a rest I felt in good health.

  Hatfield Place is a beautiful residence, grander than Hadham, and perhaps for that reason I had felt safer at the latter. We were nineteen miles north of London, which did not seem very far. I loved the long gallery and the chapel, which had some of the most attractive stained-glass windows I had ever seen. I liked to sit there and pray, with the light streaming through onto the dark oak floor. I would thank God for giving me the blessing of marriage to a good man, for my son Edmund and for the child I soon hoped to have. I was fortunate. And what I prayed for was to go on in my peaceful happy home, with my husband and children around me…free from danger.

  My thoughts were completely absorbed by my family; so I listened halfheartedly to the news which filtered into the palace and was avidly seized on by the others.

  Guillemote’s stream of talk broke into my reverie.

  “I believe it to be true,” she said.

  “What do you believe, Guillemote?” I asked.

  “That The Maid has been sent by God.”

  “Oh, you are talking of that again, are you?”

  “My lady…dear madam, everyone is talking about it.”

  “Do they still think she is divine?”

  “They do not think that she is divine…just that she is a messenger from God.”

  “Well, would that not make her divine?”

  “She does not say that she is. She says she is a simple girl who hears voices commanding her to take up arms and lead the soldiers to victory.”

  I yawned slightly and stroked the little shift I was embroidering. “Orléans will fall to the French they say,” went on Guillemote. “And if it does, that will be the turning point. It will be Paris next.”

  “Orléans fall!” I said.

  “Yes…the siege. The English have been holding on. It is hoped that they are on the verge of surrender. Joan the Maid is there leading the men on, urging them to break through the walls and rescue Orléans.”

  “How can she…a woman …?”

  “With the help of God,” said Guillemote.

  “Guillemote, you can’t really believe …”

  Guillemote looked at me steadily and said: “I do believe.”

  “The Duke of Bedford will never allow it.”

  “What hope has he? He is losing Burgundy’s friendship. It only lingers on because Burgundy loves his sister Anne, who pleads with him not to desert her husband.”

  “This is gossip.”

  “Mayhap. But there is often truth
in gossip. If Orléans should fall, men will flock to The Maid. It will prove that she has led her fellow countrymen to achieve what seemed impossible.”

  “You are bemused by this Maid.”

  “Madame…the whole of France is bemused by this Maid.”

  I could not take these tales seriously, but I soon learned that I should.

  Orléans was taken and this was a resounding victory for the French.

  I could not help thinking of my brother-in-law Bedford. He must be disconsolate. It had been a sacred mission for him to carry out Henry’s wishes and keep—and add to—the possessions in France. And now one of the key cities was lost. It was not only this loss but the effect the victory would have on the army which was losing its spirit as well as much of the land conquered by Henry.

  Owen was dismayed by the news. He repeated his conviction that it could never have happened if Henry had been alive.

  “I cannot imagine what this will mean,” he said. “It is hard to believe that one victory like this can change the course of the war. But it seems this is not all. The Maid has aroused a new spirit in France. And when people are fighting for their own country, they seem to acquire a special strength.”

  “You cannot believe this story of The Maid’s being sent by God?”

  “There are many strange things that happen on earth which are beyond our understanding. This might be one of them. Moreover, we have to consider this victory, this new spirit which is arising in France. The Dauphin is now bestirring himself.”

  “My brother never wanted the crown.”

  “It seems that The Maid has inspired him to now.”

  Owen had discovered that messengers were constantly crossing the Channel. The Duke of Bedford was keeping the Council informed. Even I, absorbed as I was in the child I had and the one who was coming, could not be unaware that momentous events were taking place.

  One day a messenger came to Hatfield.

  I was alarmed. I had hoped that few had been aware of my change of residence, but the fact that this messenger came meant that the move was not unknown.