I felt inadequate. I need not have done. Henry was a gentle and tender lover, and I was greatly relieved to discover that, instead of irritating, my innocence enchanted him.
During the night a grand procession came to our bedside with wine and soup as though to fortify us against the night’s activities.
When they had gone, Henry took me into his arms and laughed.
“The interruption was untimely,” he said. “Forgive me, Kate. I had to agree to it. Here am I, in a new country which has suddenly become mine. There will be enemies all around me. Of course, they are very agreeable now. They have to be.” He laughed again and I laughed with him. “But how do I know who is plotting against me? How do I know when someone is going to creep up to me and thrust a dagger in my back?”
I shivered and clung to him, which pleased him.
“Fret not, sweet Kate,” he said, “and know this: I am a man who is able to take care of himself as well as those about him. You will be taken care of from now on. So have no fear. But I think it as well to follow the customs of the country.” He laughed heartily. “Who wants soup and wine? There are other matters with which to concern ourselves than drinking soup and wine.”
And I laughed with him and was happy. I thought I was the luckiest princess in the world, for although my country had been defeated, my happiness had come out of it. And I was no longer merely the Princess of France. I was Queen of England.
The morning had come. We broke our fast together side by side…he now and then leaning over to kiss me.
“So,” he said, “how goes it with you, Kate? How feels it to be my wife?”
“My lord,” I replied, “it makes me wondrous happy.”
“That is what I wanted to hear…and truth it is…is it not?”
“It is the truth, my lord.”
“Then I am the happiest man…not only in France but in the whole world. There will be a feast today. It must be so. In truth, Kate, I think these feasts a waste of time.”
I nodded, smiling.
How wonderful it was to be together. There was an intimacy between us, but I felt there was much of him which I had yet to know.
I was able to meet his two brothers during that morning. I warmed toward them because it was clear that they both admired him.
There was Thomas, Duke of Clarence, and the younger Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. I should not have wanted to marry either of them. Thomas looked rather delicate and Henry told me afterward that he had sent him home after the fall of Harfleur because he was anxious about his health. Humphrey was different. I could see he had great vitality. He was very handsome and—said Henry—aware of it.
After the meeting Henry talked a little of them.
He said: “You will get to know my brothers very well in time. They are my good friends all of them.”
I said that I had seen by their expressions that they honored him and were very proud of him.
He smiled at that, well pleased that I had noticed or that they had betrayed their feelings.
“Then there is John,” he went on, “the Duke of Bedford. He is younger than Thomas. Humphrey is, of course, the youngest.”
I had guessed that that was a sore point with Humphrey. I felt he must be rather vain—although he had been very gracious and charming…perhaps a little too charming? The idea occurred to me that I might have to be a little wary of Humphrey.
But this was no time for misgivings. I had been married but one day and I had every hope that a happy future lay before me. I thought there would be weeks ahead when Henry and I would get to know each other really well; I was sure that the more I knew of him, the more attractive I would find him.
I had a rather rude awakening at the banquet that afternoon. We were side by side on the royal dais, contentedly listening to the musicians. It was a great delight to find that Henry was fond of music. He played the harp, as I did. He would play to me, he said. I should play to him; and we should play together.
One of the courtiers was talking to Henry, saying what a happy occasion this was, with which Henry agreed.
“We must celebrate it, Sire, so that the French do not forget.”
“I promise you this is something which will never be forgotten,” replied Henry.
“But there must be celebrations, my lord.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Henry.
“Well, in the first place, we should stage a tournament. We should show the French our skill.”
Henry was silent for a few seconds. Then he said coolly: “Tomorrow we lay siege to Sens.”
“My lord! So soon!”
“It is not soon. It is late. And there you may tourney to your heart’s content…not in play, sir, but in very truth. I do not anticipate great resistance. But we do not dally here celebrating my wedding…while there is work to be done.”
The man looked crestfallen and moved away.
I said: “Is this true? Are you going to fight tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he said. “I shall begin to take Sens tomorrow.”
“But,” I began, “it is so soon after …”
“War waits for no man, Kate. I have you. You are mine now. We shall be near. I shall keep you with me. Have no fear. You will be safe…and when there is time, I shall come to you that you may console and comfort me.”
He smiled at me tenderly. I wanted to protest, but I knew him well enough to understand that nothing would deter him.
So…two days after our wedding, he was planning to continue to beat down any resistance in the country he had already won.
Well, I had married a soldier…a conqueror. I should have to remember what was important to him. He loved me…in his way, but nothing could prevent his going to war when he thought it necessary. Conquest…marriage…they came in that order.
I did wonder then if it was plain Kate of whom he was enamored or was it the Princess of France?
We had been married such a short time and already he was planning to go to war.
So two days after my wedding day I was alone. He had girded on his armor and gone, though not far.
He had said: “This will take but a short time. Soon I shall be back with you.”
“And then?” I asked.
He stood looking at me, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“And then,” I went on, “there will still be war.”
He came toward me and took me roughly into his arms. He planted a rather noisy kiss on my lips.
“You’re a soldier’s wife, Kate. And a soldier follows the fortunes of war.”
I was lodged with my mother, close to the town of Sens.
Henry’s brother, the Duke of Bedford, had joined him. Each day I wondered whether he would come.
I did not enjoy my mother’s company, although she treated me with some respect nowadays. The Queen of England was of more importance to her than the Princess of France had been. I was gratified when I remembered that I was of higher rank than she was; she the wife of the deposed monarch, while I was that of the conqueror.
She was very fat now. She would lie about, nibbling her sweetmeats, and would not be parted from her dogs. I wondered how many lovers there were nowadays. Was she still as eager for them? One thing she had not lost was her love of intrigue.
It seemed a long time before Sens surrendered, but it was only six days. Then Henry came to me. I thought he would be exhausted, but quite the contrary; he was elated.
There was a passionate reunion, but a short one, and I sensed that most of the time his main preoccupation was with his captains. He told me his next objective would be Montereau, which was in the hands of the Armagnacs.
He said: “Young Burgundy is eager for the fight. There he is in his elaborate mourning, vowing vengeance on his father’s murderers. I’ll swear he cares more for his father in death than he ever did in life. He cannot wait to get to Montereau. Now I have a plan. I want you to be near…but not too near. I want to be able to come and see you when there is a chance. So I am movi
ng you to Bray-sur-Seine…you and your household…with your mother, of course.”
“I hope that you can come often,” I said.
“I hope so, too. Now prepare for the move. But first there will be our triumphant entry into Sens.”
“Shall I be there?”
“But of course. Are you not the Queen of England?”
So I prepared myself for the entry into the city. I often thought of it afterward and how incongruous it was that I, who belonged to the defeated House of Valois, should enter into the fallen city in the role of conqueror. But such was Henry’s personality that I felt I belonged with him and not with my family.
The Archbishop of Sens, who had performed the ceremony at our wedding, led us into the city. He was overjoyed because, after having been expelled by the Armagnacs, he was now reinstated by Henry.
We entered the great cathedral to the sound of a glorious anthem, and Henry turned to the Archbishop and said: “Recently you gave me my wife. Now, my lord Archbishop, I restore yours to you this day.” Which was a way of telling him that the archbishopric was given back to him.
What a happy day that was! But it was disappointing that war must go on. Henry was busy preparing, and when a battle was imminent I could see that he had no thought for anything else; and as soon as one town had fallen to him, he was preparing to take the next.
We moved to Bray-sur-Seine and settled in to await the fall of Montereau. My father, who had recovered a little, joined us there.
I was glad to see him but at the same time sad, for there he was, robbed of his royalty in a way, although he still held the title of King which Henry had graciously allowed him to keep. But he had no power; every decision must be made by Henry; and as soon as my father was dead, Henry would be King. I often thought of my brother, the Dauphin. This affected him more than anyone, for he had expected to take the crown; I knew that he had not wanted it and it had suddenly been thrust upon him, but having tasted power, he did not want to lose it…particularly in such a humiliating way.
But he was our enemy now. The ill-advised murder of the Duke of Burgundy had put him firmly in that unfortunate position—a Dauphin without hope of fulfilling his destiny.
My father might be sunk in melancholy, but my mother was as eager for intrigue as ever. She was constantly in my company, telling me what I should do. I did not consider that she had made such a success of her life that I needed to emulate her. I would listen to her and shrug my shoulders. I should do what Henry wished.
How long the days seemed without him! They were enlivened by visitors from England who had come to pay homage to me as the new Queen. My mother was delighted to receive them. She still behaved as though she were the Queen, and her manner had not changed since the days when she held great power.
She received the visitors graciously, with me standing beside her. I accepted this. In spite of everything, I could not help feeling sorry for her. I could not believe that she was still attractive to her lovers; moreover, I myself was happy and when one is happy one is inclined to be sorry for anyone who cannot possibly enjoy the same bliss—and therefore one is lenient toward them.
The Duchess of Clarence—my sister-in-law Margaret, who had arrived with the English party—was very agreeable to me.
She told me a great deal about life at the English Court and how it changed with each king. With Richard it had been elegant and gracious; it had been less so with his successor.
“The King’s father was not a happy man,” she said. “I think he had Richard’s death on his conscience. He was always afraid that ill luck would come to him through it. Henry IV was a haunted man.”
“My sister Isabelle has told me something of what happened.”
“Ah, our Little Queen. I heard she was most enchanting.”
“She loved Richard.”
“She was only a child.”
“I suppose children can love.”
“That is so, of course.”
“Will the English like me?”
“They will love you.”
“But I am French. Do they not see the French as the enemy?”
“They will see you as the King’s wife, and he is their idol. And when he returns as the conqueror, you will see how dearly they love him. They will applaud everything he has done…including his marriage.”
“I do understand.”
She looked at me quizzically. She said: “You will make many friends in your new country, but I will be the first.”
I held her hand and pressed it.
Another time she talked of her childhood. There had been great tragedies in her family and we could sympathize with each other. Three years after her father’s death, when her eldest brother was only twenty-five years of age, he had been beheaded for treason, and his head had been set up on London Bridge.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did they do such a thing?”
“Well, it was all due to the new King…the father of the present Henry. Richard was King and Henry’s father, who became King Henry IV, thought he would be a better king than Richard. My brother was loyal to Richard. If Richard had been victorious then, it would have been Henry IV who lost his head. My brother rose against Henry. He set himself at the head of a company of men and went to the Little Queen.”
I cried out: “My sister told me of this. They deceived her. They said that Richard was alive and free.”
“My brother believed it. That was why he was so confident. He had seen a man who was exactly like the King. It was a trick. However, my brother was captured and that is how his head came to be on London Bridge.”
Our conversation brought back to me those days when Isabelle had been with me and told me of her love for Richard.
I talked to her then of my childhood, of my sisters—Michelle who was now the Duchess of Burgundy, and Marie in her convent.
It was a great pleasure for me to have such a companion. It passed the days while I was waiting for the siege of Montereau to end. So the Duchess of Clarence, my new sister-in-law, became my friend.
The people of Montereau put up a strong resistance. They knew that outside their walls, fighting with the English, were the Burgundians led by Duke Philip. Montereau had been the scene of the murder of the late Duke Jean the Fearless and they guessed Burgundians would want their revenge. This knowledge doubtless strengthened their resistance.
It was inevitable, though, that in due course the town should fall to Henry.
Soldier that he was, he was not a violent man. He wanted victory not revenge. He killed only when it was necessary to do so, and if those who were conquered fell in with his wishes, he would be lenient with them. He made no effort to avoid the hardships his men endured and shared them with them. That was one of the qualities which made him the greatest soldier of his age and was the reason why his men were prepared to follow him anywhere.
Therefore there was no undue slaughter at Montereau.
He told me that Philip of Burgundy made a drama of the occasion. He called attention to his bereavement. With dramatic ardor he visited the place where his father had been buried in a pauper’s shell. He ordered that a pall should cover it and lighted candles be placed around it. He then took a solemn vow that he would dedicate his life to bringing his father’s murderers to justice. He would make it his unswerving duty to do so. And to this cause he would place his body, his soul and all he possessed.
“It was effective,” commented Henry. “But I believe his devotion to his father was slightly less intense during the latter’s lifetime. I believe he went so far as to curse his father for not allowing him to be present at Agincourt. Jean gave orders that his son was to be guarded and not allowed out. Philip made an attempt to escape and was restrained. I believe he thinks that, if he had not been prevented from being there, the result of the battle would have been different.”
I told him how pleased I was to have his brother’s wife, Margaret, with me and how we had become good friends.
“She is a good woman, and
Clarence is a good man. I’ll confess that of all my brothers I love him best—though I suppose many would point out that Bedford is the more worthy. But one does not always love people for their worthiness. And Clarence…Thomas…has always been my special friend. I suppose it was partly because he was the nearest to me in age.”
“I think she is sad because she sees so little of him.”
“He is a soldier…like the rest of us.”
“Would it not be wonderful if these wars could be over!”
He laughed at me. I was not sure whether he agreed. I had seen the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of battle; and I knew that, tender and loving as he was to me, the real excitement in life for him was in conquest. I wondered what he would have been like if there had been no war to occupy him.
I had no opportunity of finding out.
No sooner was Montereau in his hands than we must move on to Melun.
I with my family and our attendants were housed not far from the camp.
Henry was thoughtful and kind to my parents; none would have believed that my father was the conquered king and Henry the conqueror. He was most anxious for my father’s comfort.
He said to me: “The house is far enough for your father not to hear the cannon. I am sure that would disturb him. And yet it is near enough for me to be able to ride to you now and then should the siege take longer than I expect. That was why I chose it.”
I was amazed at his concern. He had had musicians brought to the house in Melun, because he had heard that when my father became uneasy and showed signs of another lapse, he could be soothed by music.
When Melun fell, the next objective was Paris.
I wondered how I should feel, riding into our capital side by side with its conqueror. Henry was uneasy too; he thought there might be certain hostility, and for that reason he chose to go on in advance. He said he did not want to put me in any danger; and before I entered the city he must make sure that all would be well.
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