The Queen's Secret

by Jean Plaidy

  “Henry was the sort of man people worshiped.”

  She put her hand over mine and pressed it firmly.

  I felt an urge to tell her. Do not be sorry for me, I wanted to say, for I have found a greater happiness than I ever had with Henry. If I could be left in peace with my family, there is nothing else I would ask.

  I restrained myself. Anne was a good woman; she would be sympathetic, but her first allegiance would be to Bedford, and if she thought I had broken the law—which many might say I had—she would feel it her duty to tell her husband.

  And sitting with Anne, I did realize fully that, however unimportant I had been made to feel, I yet remained the Queen, and it could be that the children I had by a second marriage might have some claim to the throne. Henry was the natural heir, of course, but Edmund and Jasper…oh no, the circumstances would have to be very extraordinary for anyone to think for a moment that they could be in line for the throne. But something of that kind must have been behind Gloucester’s reasoning when he had forced that statute through Parliament. Perhaps there was something in his scheming beyond spite. No…no…the idea was too remote.

  I said: “Henry and your husband were such great friends. It was wonderful to see the brotherly love between them.”

  “I felt they always wanted to protect each other…and themselves, of course. Their father’s hold on the throne was not very secure, and that made them alert for danger. It drew them together as a family.”

  “The Duke of Gloucester does not appear to have the same family feeling.”

  “There are some who will always work for themselves and see everything as it affects them personally.”

  “And Gloucester is one of those.”

  There was a pause and at length she said: “He has caused John a great deal of anxiety. I have worried a great deal. My brother is very angry with Gloucester. It affects his relationship with my husband, for my brother is, I believe, the most powerful man in France.”

  “I know. There was the proposed duel.”

  “Which, fortunately, did not take place.”

  “I believe no one intended that it should.”

  “No. But the trouble is still there, and Gloucester has caused it. I could not bear to see the friendship between my husband and brother broken.”

  I nodded in agreement and she went on: “And now there is The Maid.”

  “She is in the hands of Luxembourg.”

  “Yes…and I believe he will sell her to the highest bidder.”

  “Poor girl!”

  “She has wrought great havoc.”

  “To the English,” I replied. “To the French she has brought hope.”

  Anne looked a little surprised. I could see that she regarded England as her country now. How lucky Bedford was! I felt a pang of envy. I understood completely their love for each other. Was I not blessed with similar devotion? But they did not have to hide their happiness behind a cloak of deception.

  “I am so glad that I found you here,” I said.

  “I am with John whenever possible,” she replied. “We hate to be separated.”

  “Have you any idea how long it will be before Henry is crowned?” I asked.

  “John wants it to be soon. He always wanted it to take place in Rheims. It should. That will mean a great deal.”

  “Then why do we not go to Rheims? Why do we stay here in Rouen?”

  “I will tell you why. Because there is so much disruption in the country. It is not safe to attempt the journey. The King must not be taken into danger.”

  “Is it so bad, then? I thought …”

  “The situation has changed considerably since The Maid took Orléans. There are pockets of resistance everywhere. John must be absolutely certain that the King could reach Rheims in safety before he attempts to take him there.”

  “How can a simple girl have done so much?”

  “John says it is the legend she has created. Somehow she has made the people of France believe that she is being guided by God. John says it is not the girl herself. It is the myth surrounding her.”

  “But if there is a myth, she has created it.”

  “It is the people who have created the myth.”

  I could see that in her eyes all that John did and said was right. And I did not attempt to argue the point further.

  As the weeks passed, I began to wish that I had made excuses not to come. I had not thought it would be so long. I had imagined that we would go straight to Rheims, the coronation would take place, and we should all return home. I had reckoned on a few months. How different it was! I certainly should have made excuses not to come.

  But should I? When I thought of the consequences of discovery, I would be reduced to a state of terror. It was not for myself I worried, and I supposed they would not harm my little ones; it would be Owen they would seize. I saw that I must take every possible precaution against discovery. I must remember this and not grow too impatient at the delay.

  It was brought home to me how precarious the situation was when Bedford and Anne left Rouen for a short hunting trip. I cannot think it was solely to hunt. Bedford would be investigating certain parts of the surrounding country, I supposed, testing its safety before allowing the King to move on. But it was no doubt wise to call this foray a hunt.

  There was alarm when the members of the hunt came back without the Duke and Duchess. They were struck with horrified amazement to find that they had not returned.

  The enemy were in the neighborhood, they said. Could it possibly be that they had fallen into their hands?

  While the awful contemplation of what this could mean gripped us all, Anne and Bedford came riding into the castle. Bedford was pale and tight-lipped. Obviously they had been in great danger.

  I learned afterward that they had become cut off from the party and had come very close to a company of French soldiers. By good fortune they had managed to keep hidden until the company passed, but it was only due to good luck that they had escaped capture.

  It was an indication of the changed condition of the country and how close the enemy were to Rouen.

  I was depressed. As Henry was with us and there could be such danger, there was no hope of our leaving Rouen just yet.

  Anne told me about the adventure later. She had been very frightened.

  “They were very close,” she said. “We could hear their voices. We were lucky to be in a wood where the trees helped to hide us. Just suppose they had captured John! That would surely have been the end. There is no one who could take his place.”

  “You will have to be more careful in future.”

  “Oh, we shall be. John says we must take precautions before making the journey to Rheims. They will know the little King is with us. John thinks they would certainly make an attempt to capture him.”

  I was filled with alarm. “What do you think they would do to him?”

  She was silent. I burst out: “He is only a child. What harm has he done? They would kill him…if they caught him.”

  “No. They would not dare. The most likely thing is that they would hold him to ransom. Be calm, Katherine. He will not be taken. He is safe here. John would never allow him to be taken. He has sworn a solemn oath to protect the King and serve him with all his strength.”

  “I know. Oh…but how I wish we could go home!”

  “The crowning will take place and then you will go.”

  “But when…when?”

  I might well ask.

  The months were passing and still we lingered at Rouen. With the French so close, Bedford dared not venture out with the King.

  Anne told me that he was abandoning all hope of getting to Rheims and that it might be necessary to crown Henry in Paris.

  “Why not?” I said eagerly.

  “Because Rheims is the place where the Kings of France are crowned and have been since the twelfth century, when Philip Augustus was crowned there. You know that, Katherine. And the French would not believe he could be truly Kin
g if he were not crowned at Rheims.”

  “Somehow I do not believe they will accept Henry as their true King wherever he is crowned.”

  “In time they will. John is certain of that.”

  But still the weeks passed and we remained at Rouen.

  There was news of The Maid. The English had paid the ransom for her, and she was in their hands.

  I guessed they would bring her to Rouen, which was a city more important to them than Paris because it was the capital of Normandy, which they had always considered part of England.

  I was right. The Maid was close to us.

  A hush seemed to have fallen over the castle. She was in everyone’s thoughts. Those who had seen her said that there was a radiance about her and an innocence never seen before. To see her was to believe in her Voices, it was said. Now that she was a prisoner of the English—those who had suffered most through her—what would happen to her?

  “Poor girl,” said Joanna Courcy. “Sold to her enemies for 10,000 livres.”

  “How could Luxembourg have found it in his heart to sell her?”

  “He was thinking of his pocket rather than his heart,” said Joanna grimly.

  “What will it be like for her in that prison?” I wondered.

  “They may be in too much awe of divine judgment to harm her,” suggested Joanna.

  “I pray that will be so.”

  “But her judges will condemn her in the end. She has done too much harm to our cause.”

  “I wonder what she feels lying there.”

  “Your brother will save her surely.”

  “Why, yes,” I cried. “Charles must save her. But do you think he can?”

  “He will do all in his power. She has turned the tide for him. She has given him new hope, brought back his dignity…his crown, one might say.”

  “Yes, you are right. My brother will save her. But can he do so…if she is in English hands? Oh, to think the French sold her to the English for 10,000 livres!”

  “The Burgundians,” Joanna corrected me. “The French would never have sold one who was their best hope.”

  “How strange it is. Are not the Burgundians French? The Duke of Bedford will be rejoicing that there is still some friendship between him and the Duke of Burgundy. I wish I could stop thinking of that poor Maid.”

  “People would say that we should rejoice because she is under lock and key.”

  “Oh, but she is so young…so innocent.”

  “An innocent girl who led an army to victory!”

  “How I should love to see her…to talk to her…to discover for myself whether I could believe she truly heard those voices.”

  The Maid’s name was on everyone’s lips as Christmas came and we were still in Rouen.

  I cannot say it was a happy Christmas. Few were in the mood for merriment. True, The Maid was no longer an inspiration to our enemies, and the fact that she lay at this time in her prison should have cheered us, but it did not. It was impossible to rid ourselves of the lurking belief that she was indeed inspired by Heaven and that the hand of God would be turned against us because we had made her a prisoner.

  My thoughts were back in Hatfield with my children. Jasper was a year old. He would not remember me when I returned. Would Edmund? Oh, it was cruel to separate us. How much longer must we remain in France?

  “Are we never to leave this place?” I demanded of Anne.

  “Not until it is safe for the King to travel.”

  So the days passed.

  I did have one or two opportunities of spending a little time with Henry.

  He was deeply interested in The Maid.

  “Do you really think that she hears voices from Heaven?” he asked me.

  “I do not know,” I answered.

  “If it is true, we should not punish her.”

  “Perhaps we should let her go back to tend her father’s sheep,” I said.

  “My lord uncle says that she would not do that. She would set herself at the head of the French army and lead them to more victories.”

  “Perhaps she would lead them to defeat.”

  “How could she, if God is with her?”

  “Your uncle does not believe God is with her. He thinks she is a wicked woman…a bold woman who dresses like a man and lives with rough soldiers. Henry, tell me. Do you defend her…to your uncle?”

  He turned to me, and I saw the bewildered look in his eyes. “I should mayhap,” he said. “But I do not.”

  “Why should you?”

  “Because it may be true.”

  “You really think that, do you not?”

  “Sometimes…when I am alone…at night perhaps. And I pray to God and ask Him to guide me…to let me see the truth. But when I listen to my uncle and my lord Warwick and the Earl of Stafford, I think I am wicked to think that she who is our enemy may be working with God.”

  “Dear little King,” I said, “they have put too heavy a burden on those young shoulders.”

  “They are putting her into the hands of the Bishop of Beauvais. I signed an order for him to set up a court and try her. My lady, could it be like trying God?”

  “Only if you believe she is holy and has indeed been visited by the angels. Your uncle does not believe that.”

  “Oh no.”

  “So…you will not.”

  “My uncle says she is a witch, and if she is a witch, she deserves to die, does she not?”

  “They will prove she is a witch if they want to, I’ll swear.”

  “They do want to. Oh yes, they want to. But it must not be because they want to but because she is.”

  I soothed him, for I could see that he wanted comfort.

  “We shall see,” I said. “Whatever happens, you must not blame yourself. It is not your responsibility, you know.”

  “But…I have to sign the papers.”

  “That is only a symbol. You are not responsible for what the Regent does.”

  “But I am the King, dear mother.”

  “I wish …”

  “Tell me what you wish.”

  I took his face in my hands and I was picturing him at Hatfield…in the nursery with his little brothers. Oh, if only that could be! If only I could wipe away that anxious look…if only I could make this bewildered little King into a carefree boy!

  The year was moving on, and we were out of January—and still no sign of leaving Rouen.

  I was growing restless. I sent for Owen.

  He came cautiously, but I flung myself into his arms. He held me firmly, but I was aware of his tension. All the time he was wondering if we could possibly be watched.

  “I am tired…tired of this, Owen,” I cried. “I want to go home. I want to see my children. This is a nightmare which never ends.”

  “It must end soon,” said Owen. “They will try The Maid. They will condemn her…and when she is dead, the French will say that as there was no miraculous rescue, The Maid deluded them. They will return to their old slothful ways, and the Duke of Bedford will be the feared and respected Lord of France once more.”

  “And what of my brother whom she has crowned King?”

  “He will revert to his old ways. In fact, it seems he already has. It was expected that he would make some move to come to the aid of the girl who had done so much for him. But what did he do? Nothing.”

  I thought of Charles…indolent…self-indulgent. Oh Charles, I thought, have you no shame? Everyone expects you to make some effort to save this girl. But for her you would still be Charles…ironically called the Dauphin. You would never have done anything to bring yourself out of the rut into which you had fallen. But she did it for you. Are you going to ignore her now?

  I feared that he would. Perhaps I knew too well that little boy who had been with me all those years ago in the Hôtel de St.-Paul.

  Winter had passed into spring, and we still waited. A feeling of doom had overtaken me. I should never escape.

  I should have been bold. I should not have come here.
I should have made excuses to stay at home.

  It was already May. What were my children doing? Guillemote would keep my memory alive with Edmund. She would tell Jasper of his mother who loved him and longed to be with him. I could trust Guillemote. I thought of the spring in Hatfield. The trees would now have emerged from their winter nudity and be clothed in green leaves. How beautiful it would be in Hatfield, where my children were growing up without me!

  Every few days there was news of The Maid. She had been passed over to the secular law. We knew what that meant.

  The law would now pass on her that sentence which the Church feared to…just in case they were dealing with someone who had been guided by Heaven. How I despised them! How ashamed I was of my brother, who stood aside and made no attempt to help the girl who had done so much for him.

  There was unrest everywhere and a tension in the air. People wondered what would happen when The Maid went to her death, for they had condemned her as a witch—and that meant death by fire.

  Poor child! She was little more. Could they not show some mercy to one so young? Could they not send her back to her family…to the fields where she could once again tend her father’s sheep?

  But they feared her. Lurking in their minds would be the question: was she indeed the emissary of God? And if she were, what fate would befall those who harmed her?

  I thought that right at the last moment someone would intervene to save her but, when the day came, no one attempted to do so.

  It was May 30. A hushed silence prevailed throughout the castle. The thoughts of everyone were with that young girl who had heard voices from Heaven and as a result had led an army and changed the course of the war.

  How could a simple girl have done that without the help of Heaven?

  I shall never forget that day.

  People crowded into the streets to witness her martyrdom. We did hear details of it afterward for those who had witnessed it were eager to talk—indeed, they could not stop talking of it.

  Henry had asked that I come to him.

  We sat holding hands. I was surprised that he, being so young, could be so deeply affected.