by Jean Plaidy
‘Something to make that popinjay of yours jealous,’ he told her.
There was a brief silence while Harry looked at his mother almost challengingly. He could almost hear the whacks of the stick as it came through the air.
‘He escaped from his cage,’ said Mary at length.
‘Silly creature!’ commented Henry. ‘What chance would it have outside?’
The thought of the popinjay being set upon by fierce birds . . . eagles and hawks . . . disturbed Harry even more than the memory of the stick.
He said nothing. He would never let a bird out of a cage again. His mother had explained to him what happened to cherished little birds when they fell among the wild fowl.
It had made a deep impression on him and Mary believed that he had had enough of a lesson. She would not tell Henry of the many scrapes in which their first-born had been involved. She could not bear to think of his being beaten. She believed there were other ways of teaching him.
When Henry told the children about the bears they were overcome with awe and wonder. Harry could not restrain his joy; he talked of nothing else. Their father ordered that a pit should be dug for them and there their antics could amuse the children, but there must be a keeper for them and the children must remember that they might be dangerous animals.
The thought of danger made Harry’s eyes sparkle. He was very anxious for everyone to know that he was not afraid of anything. Thomas might be frightened in the dark; Harry jeered at that. When he heard the servants talking about the hare of Bolingbroke he listened intently; he frightened Thomas with his account of it and Thomas had nightmares and would awake crying out that the hare was in the room so that Joan had to take him into her bed and assure him that there was no such thing.
‘There is, there is,’ Thomas insisted. ‘Harry says so.’
‘That wicked limb of Satan,’ murmured Joan. ‘If the hare came for anybody it would be for him.’
Then she crossed herself for she feared she might have ill wished her precious Harry.
Harry cared nothing. He boasted that he wished the hare would come out and he’d catch it, he would. He’d catch and boil it in a pot for dinner.
‘You mustn’t say such things,’ said Joan. ‘If this hare is the shape some poor tormented soul has taken you couldn’t boil it in a pot and eat it.’
‘I could,’ boasted Harry.
‘That boy frightens the life out of me,’ Joan told Mistress Mary Hervey, a newcomer to the castle whom the Countess had engaged to act as a governess to the children.
Mary Hervey said that Harry was a bold and imaginative boy, by far the most interesting child it had ever been her lot to teach, so it was clear that she too had fallen under his spell.
Mary Hervey taught the two elder boys and when they grew older the others would come under her care. Harry was a bright child, good at his lessons when he was interested in them and she had hopes of making a scholar of him.
In the meantime he was obsessed with the bears and when they arrived, he was almost wild with excitement.
The keeper was going to teach them tricks and Harry and Thomas were allowed to watch. The bears were in a deep pit from which they could not escape. Only the keeper went down to them. Everyone else, decreed Henry, must watch them from above.
Every day for an hour Harry and Thomas were allowed to watch them. Harry would become so excited; he would shout to them. He loved all three but the smallest of them delighted him most. He longed to go down and tell this bear that one day he would rescue it from its pit and they would go travelling together. They would have the most wonderful adventures. They would go and joust with the French knights; then they would go and fight with the Teutonic knights; and they would always be together. When his enemies were surrounding him the bear would come and drive them all away; and when some wicked men tried to take the bear away and put him into a ring to be baited by wild dogs, Harry would leap into the ring, kill all the dogs and emerge triumphant with his dear dear bear.
It was galling that he was never even allowed to go into the pit.
The bear had become so much a part of his days and he half believed the adventures he had imagined were true. One afternoon when the household was quiet he slipped down to the pit. The bears were sleeping. Around the top of the pit there were iron spikes to prevent the bears getting out. It was not difficult for Harry to slip between these. Now he could scramble down to the bears.
It was not as easy as he had imagined. The slope was steep. He made his way cautiously; he slipped a little, regained his footing and continued to clamber. Now he was right down in the pit. The bears looked very big so close and he could not help feeling very small. They were asleep – all of them, even his own special bear.
What would have happened to Harry in the bear pit was never known because the keeper happened to pass by at that moment and glancing down into the pit, he could not believe his own eyes. When he had assured himself that it was indeed the Lord Harry who was down there, he was horrified. The bears were sleeping and if they were disturbed they could be bad-tempered. What might happen then, he dared not think. He could not slip through the spikes as Harry had been able to, but in the pit was a hut which he used to prepare the bears’ food and store other things he needed for the care of them, and this was reached by steps from the outside and into the pit. He unlocked the gate to the steps and within a short time he was in the pit. Harry was standing by the smallest of the bears and talking to it. The bear had awakened and was sniffing the child. The keeper snatched up Harry and carried him into the hut.
‘How did you get down here?’ he demanded.
‘I got through the spikes and climbed down.’
‘You have been told not to do such a thing.’
‘No I have not,’ said Harry. ‘I have not been told not to go through the spikes and down into the pit.’
‘But you knew the bears could be dangerous.’
Yes, Harry had known that, but no one had said he must not get through the spikes.
Of course he had not been told precisely that because no one had thought he would do so.
‘I shall have to tell where I found you,’ said the keeper.
‘Why?’ asked Harry.
‘Because you might have been killed.’
‘My bear would never have killed me. If the others had tried to he would have saved me.’
The keeper was exasperated. He would have to tell Harry’s father for if there was an accident later he would be blamed. He could not risk that. The boy had to be stopped.
Mary was with Henry when the keeper asked to be seen. Harry was with him and he explained where he had found him.
‘He was quite fearless, my lord. There in the bears’ pit. Why, they could have turned on him.’
‘Oh Harry!’ cried his mother reproachfully.
But it was at his father that Harry was looking.
Henry regarded his son sternly. ‘Go to your room at once,’ he said.
Harry lifted his head high and gave his father that defiant look which Henry had seen before. But he obeyed and went from the room.
‘He had worked his way through the spikes, my lord. He had scrambled down. He’s so fond of the bears, especially the smallest one. He was talking to it when I found him. I could see he was going to touch it at any minute. My heart was in my mouth as I snatched him up.’
‘You did well,’ said Henry. ‘Put more spikes in so that not even the smallest child can get through. I shall remember what you have done today.’
The keeper went out gratified and Mary said: ‘Oh Henry, he is only a child you know.’
‘What I don’t know is what we are going to do with him.’
‘Henry, you won’t beat him too hard. He is really delicate, you know, although it’s hard to believe.’
‘He doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything.’
‘It is admirable in a way.’
Henry smiled slowly. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘When he looks at me
in that defiant way I think he would like to kill me.’
‘Oh Henry, don’t say such things. You’re his hero. In the games he plays it is all about what you are doing. He pretends to joust and fight the Lithuanians. And he always takes your part. He is always you. Poor Thomas has to be whatever Harry decides. It is just that he has unbounded energy and he does get into such mischief.’
‘He is a grand boy, I’ll grant you. But he needs discipline. I’ll go to him.’
‘Henry.’ She laid her hand on his arm pleadingly.
‘Rest assured,’ he said softly, ‘I will do what is best for him.’
Harry was waiting for him, sullen and defiant.
‘Harry,’ said Henry sitting down, ‘I wish to speak to you. Come here.’
Harry went. He was looking for the stick. He could not understand why his father had not brought it.
Henry drew the boy to him. ‘Why are you so disobedient?’ he asked.
‘I was only talking to my bear.’
‘You know you are not supposed to go down into the bear pit.’
Harry was silent.
‘Did you know it?’
‘Nobody said.’
‘You knew it though, did you not?’
‘I knew Thomas must not go.’
‘And you thought you might?’
Harry drew himself up to his full height. ‘I knew they wouldn’t hurt me.’
‘So you were not afraid?’
‘If the others had tried to bite me we’d have fought them.’
‘Who would?’
‘My bear and I.’
Henry thought: It is useless. I should be proud of him. I could never have endured a weakling. He is fearless. He is a boy any father would be proud of.
‘Harry,’ he said, ‘you know your grandfather is a very great man.’
‘He’s John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster,’ said Harry promptly.
‘That’s right, and because he is who he is you must learn to be worthy to be his grandson. You must be bold; you must fear nothing but what is evil.’
‘I’m not afraid of evil,’ boasted Harry.
His father smiled. ‘Harry,’ he said, ‘I am not going to beat you this time. It was wrong to go into the pit. You might have been mauled by the bears, perhaps even killed. You must think before you act. I like it well that you should not be afraid but you must be more thoughtful for others. Think of how sad your mother and I would be, and your brothers too, if anything happened to you.’
Harry was shocked by the thought. Then he said: ‘Thomas and John wouldn’t mind and Humphrey wouldn’t know.’
Henry said: ‘And I and your mother . . .?’
‘You don’t like me,’ said Harry. ‘You don’t like me when I do bad things . . . and I do a lot of bad things.’
‘Harry, will you promise me one thing? I shall go away soon. I want you to look after your mother and your brothers till I come back.’
Harry looked pleased at the prospect.
‘You,’ said Henry, laying a hand on his shoulder, ‘will be the head of the house while I am away. My son and heir. Who else should guard my home? But of course if you are going to do foolish things . . . a little boy might do . . . well then it is useless.’
Harry cried: ‘I won’t do silly things. I’ll be head of the house.’ Henry drew him to him and held him fast. It was rare for him to demonstrate his affection.
Perhaps this was the way to deal with this son of his. He was thanking God for him. He was at heart very proud of Harry and would not have had him other than he was.
John of Gaunt came to Bolingbroke to see the family. This was a great occasion. The children were very much in awe of him, even Harry in spite of his pretence not to be – but they were fond of Lady Swynford who always accompanied him.
He inspected the bears and the parrot and the falcons and the dogs, and heard an account of young Harry’s descent into the bear pit which amused him and which he applauded as showing a daring spirit.
There was no doubt that Harry was the one who aroused the most interest and Harry was deeply aware of this.
But the Duke’s motive in visiting his son was not only to see the children.
As he told Henry, while it was wise to hold aloof from dangerous factions he must not lose the high place in the kingdom which was his right as his father’s heir.
‘We must have peace with France,’ said the Duke. ‘There will be no prosperity until we do. Richard sees this, I think, I am sure that he wishes that this claim to the crown of France had never been raised. He agrees with me that we should try to bring about some sort of settlement.’
‘You mean you are proposing to take an embassy to France?’
‘I mean just that,’ said John of Gaunt, ‘and you should be a part of it.’
Catherine Swynford talked with Mary about the proposed mission which the Duke had discussed at great length with her.
‘It will take them away again,’ she said, ‘but at least it will be on a peaceful mission.’
Mary toyed with the idea of telling Catherine about the fears that came to her and how after each pregnancy she felt a little weaker. But somehow she could not bring herself to do so. Catherine looked so full of health although she was so much older and she had borne the Duke four children and her husband two with, it seemed, the utmost ease.
Mary felt ashamed of herself for being so weak. After all it was a woman’s mission in life to be a mother.
So she said nothing and instead discussed the prospects of peace with France.
In due course the embassy left and by this time Mary was once more pregnant.
The terrible foreboding came to her. She felt ill as the months passed. I must tell Henry, she promised herself. There must be an end to this. We have four sons and now there is this other child.
That must be enough.
She had the feeling that she must get away from Bolingbroke. Perhaps a stay in pleasant Peterborough would do her good. In any case a change of scene would be beneficial. There was excitement in moving from castle to castle. After his adventure in the bear pit Harry had lost some of his devotion to the bears. He was more interested in a falcon which he had had given to him. The children would enjoy a move.
So they travelled to Peterborough.
Strangely enough Mary’s health improved. The months passed quickly and there was news from France. Everywhere the English went they were treated with honour and courtesy by the French; there were tournaments and banquets at which as usual each tried to outdo the other in splendour.
Henry excelled as always at the joust and there he met those on pilgrimages to the Holy Land. It occurred to him then that that was something he would like to undertake. The truth was that he needed adventure. When he had joined with the Lords Appellant there had been plenty of that, but now that the King had settled down and the Queen was beside him to keep a steadying influence on him, life had changed in England; and there was not enough to keep a man like Henry occupied.
He fancied going on a pilgrimage and discussed it with his father, who thought it a good idea.
He had heard from Mary that she was once again pregnant. She seemed to be having a child almost every year which was very commendable. The more his family grew, the happier Henry was. Boys to stand beside him and support him in his quarrels, girls to make good alliances and bring more strength to his house. They were young yet. Mary was now twenty-two; she had years of childbearing before her. Yes, they were going to rival Edward and Philippa.
Meanwhile Mary waited in Peterborough.
She was aware of the anxious looks of Joan Waring and Mary Hervey; she knew that they whispered about her and feared the worst.
Joan was indignant. Ladies had more to do in life than bear child after child. This was for gipsies and the poor, my lord should understand this. Of course he did not know what toll these pregnancies took of the Lady Mary. When he came home there was a baby smiling – or yelling – in its cradle and his lady wife smiling
as though it had all been as easy as she could have wished it to be.
It was spring and the buds were opening and the birds were going wild with joy when Mary’s pains started. A cold fear took possession of her as her women helped her to bed.
‘Let me come through this,’ she prayed. ‘What of the children if I do not? They need their mother. Oh God, let me live and let this be the last.’
It seemed as though her prayers were answered for it was an easier birth than the others; the baby was small but perfectly formed.
A little girl.
It was a change after the four boys. She marvelled at the dainty creature and in that moment she thought it was all worthwhile. She had five wonderful children. She must not complain because she had had to pay a certain price for them. The painful birth . . . the deterioration of health . . . they could be forgotten while she held her baby girl in her arms.
Would Henry be pleased? She believed so. After all they had their four boys.
She thought of a name for the child. She should be named after Henry’s mother. Blanche, that was a good family name. So Blanche it should be.
The little girl thrived and Mary was delighted that she should feel so much better than she usually did after her confinements.
Henry was as delighted as Mary had known he would be. He was pleased that she should be called after his mother whom the poet Chaucer had extolled in his verses but whom Henry could not remember. He sent silks from Champagne and Flanders to decorate the font in Peterborough Cathedral and there Mary’s fifth child was baptised.
Henry returned to England but almost immediately set out again. He was going to travel across Europe to the Holy Land. On the way the King wished him to call on the Queen’s brother Wenceslas who was also the Holy Roman Emperor. He was to pay his respects and to let Wenceslas know how devoted Richard was to his Queen. Indeed there was no need because the devotion of the royal pair was well known throughout Europe. However, it was a friendly gesture and one which Henry was delighted to make.
From Bohemia he went to Venice where he arranged that a ship was commissioned and when it was built and filled with the requisite stores he set out for Palestine which he reached in due course. He paid a visit to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at the Mount of Olives and glowing with righteousness he began to journey home. He stayed for a while on the island of Cyprus where he was entertained by its King and when he had watched the performing bears he could not resist telling the story of how his firstborn had fearlessly descended into the pit to play with the bear. The boy’s valour was applauded and when he was leaving, the King presented him with a leopard.
