The Lord of Greenwich (The Plantagenets Book 5)

by Juliet Dymoke

  She was now hot with confusion and embarrassment, sure that everyone must be looking at them.

  'My lord . . . pray excuse me. Perhaps I should not have come to stand here alone.'

  He shook with silent laughter. 'No indeed. I'm sure some busy tongue must have told you that the Lord Humfrey might steal your virginity. And so he might, for you cannot be other than a virgin, eh? Where do you sleep, poppet?'

  'Oh! I cannot tell you . . . nor would I . . .' She broke from him and scarlet-faced almost ran back to Queen Joanna.

  Still laughing he wandered off to join a group of his friends who had a jug of wine between them. He realized he had forgotten to ask her name. He had also forgotten Eleanor Cobham.

  The feasting went on for many hours and the King himself had retired long before the last guests staggered to their beds. In the crowded state of the palace Humfrey found himself sharing a chamber with John. He abandoned the thought of gentler company and, slightly drunk, rolled into bed belligerent enough to return to the subject that had annoyed him.

  'Why should you have Coldharbour?' he demanded. 'You are never in town long enough to need it, whereas I like London.'

  'The taverns and whorehouses, you mean.'

  'And other things,' Humfrey said without offence. 'I would like to rebuild Grandsire's great palace at the Savoy. It is a shame to see it still in ruins just as it was when the miserable mob burned it.'

  'Except that half the new houses in the city are built with stones filched from it. And it would cost a deal of money.'

  'Well, I know Father was always tight-fisted, but now that Harry is king –'

  John began to strip off his clothes. 'He has other things to spend his treasure on.'

  'Maybe, but I've a mind to a fine lodging on the river and until the Savoy can be made habitable –'

  'Even if Harry gives it to you.'

  '– I'd as lief have Coldharbour. Or Greenwich! Now there's a fine house. Do you think Uncle Thomas would yield it to me?'

  'No, I don't.' John said in amusement. 'Nor will I give you Coldharbour. Go to bed, for God's sake. I'll not let you pick a fight with me at this time of night. Anyway I shall be in London a great deal more from now on.'

  'And why did Harry make that fellow Erpingham his steward?' Humfrey went on truculently. 'He always toadied after Father.'

  'Sir Thomas has been a loyal servant these many years. Harry does not need, nor would it be wise, to sweep the board clean.'

  'Well, I hope he remembers he has brothers.'

  'Do you really think he would not?'

  Humfrey's annoyance evaporated as he remembered Harry's words in the Abbey this morning. 'No, I don't.' He stood while John Patrick removed his clothes and then rolled into bed. 'You are in the right of it. We'll not quarrel, any of us – not even with Thomas.'

  'Certainly not with Thomas,' John agreed and got into the other side of the bed. Their servants went out and only a small lamp was left burning in the room. 'He's had experience abroad which is more than you and I have had.'

  'What an odd fellow he is,' Humfrey said sleepily. 'Who would have thought he would have lost his wooden head over Aunt Margaret? No doubt he's merry in his bed now while I have only you for company.'

  'Oh, go to sleep.' John said, but he was smiling with the indulgent affection the elder brothers had for the youngest of the family.

  Humfrey waited for many days to be told what post Harry had in mind for him. Thomas was to be Captain General, John Constable of England, but still there was no word for him. There seemed to be no time for the kind of celebration Humfrey had expected once the solemn funeral was over and King Henry IV lay beneath a stone in Canterbury Cathedral. Harry was absorbed in his new duties, attending to pressing matters with the precision he gave to everything, but at last when Parliament was about to meet in May Humfrey was called to the King's chamber where for the first time since their father's death he found his brother alone.

  Harry stood by the window reading a paper, the early summer sunshine slanting in on his long handsome face, setting gold glints in his chestnut hair, and highlighting an old scar on his cheek. He turned as his brother came in. 'Humfrey! I ask your pardon that I've been so long in talking with you but there is so much to attend to. With Father so ill and Archbishop Arundel growing old much had been neglected. However there are things I want to discuss with you.'

  'And I with you,' Humfrey said, still thinking of Coldharbour House.

  'Well, sit down, take a cup of wine.' Harry came to his big chair by the table, carefully laying his paper on the correct pile. 'You will be glad to know I've ordered our mother's image in copper to be fashioned and placed over her tomb in Leicester – a sad neglect by our late father. And I intend to bring King Richard's body from Langley to lie where it should rest, here in the Abbey beside his Queen.'

  'Richard? But why?' Humfrey asked in bewilderment. Harry did have odd notions at times.

  His brother gave him a direct stare. 'Do you not see the necessity? No, perhaps not. But you did not know him as I did. Of course he should not have seized our lands when Grandsire Lancaster died, not offended half the barons as he did, but he took me to Ireland with him when our lord was banished and there was much to love about him. He could have had me slain but he did not. He treated me like a son. Nor can I forget that we drove him from his throne and where I sit now I have little legal right to sit, though by God I mean to stay.' He smiled briefly. I am the man to be King, not young Mortimer, nor will I countenance these foolish rumours that Richard is still living.'

  'I've heard them. Some whisper that it was a clerk resembling him who was buried in his place.'

  'That's nonsense and if there is a man hiding in Scotland claiming to be Richard then the Scots foster that notion to their own purpose. But we have them at bay while I hold their King.'

  'I suppose so,' Humfrey said. 'I've always wondered – do you think he was slain at Pontefract? And on our father's orders?'

  Harry's mouth was set in a hard line. 'How can anyone tell after all these years? But I will have Richard honoured as he should have been.'

  'As you deem fit,' Humfrey shrugged. 'That should stifle the malcontents. I wish you could as easily bridle John Oldcastle. Now the churchmen are after him he seems to have become even less careful of what he says.'

  'I will try to bring him to reason – for the sake of our friendship if for no other.' Harry paused. 'But I don't want to talk of that today. Will you be pleased with the post of Great Chamberlain of England?'

  Humfrey felt the colour rise to his face and he forgot Coldharbour House. 'Harry!' Impulsively he knelt and put his brother's hand to his lips. 'I swear I will serve you well.'

  'I know you will try to do so.' The King rose and going to a small chest brought a gold collar wrought with the double S badge of the Lancasters. 'This belonged to Grandsire and I want you to wear it in your new position.' He flung it over his brother's head so that it lay across his shoulders and over his breast.

  Humfrey rose, looking down at the glittering gift. 'By St James, I don't know how to thank you. Now you are King we will order affairs to our liking, eh? Shall we begin by feasting tonight without some of the tiresome killjoys about the court? Find some pretty women to beguile us? Come to my inn –'

  His brother gave him an odd look. 'You don't understand, Humfrey. Our playing days are over. When I was Prince of Wales I could do near enough what I pleased, but now there can be no more visits to the Cardinal's Hat, nor to Lewis John's. Don't you see?'

  'I had not thought of it so. Of course I suppose you cannot disport yourself as we used, but if woman is an evil, as Archbishop Arundel used to preach at us, surely she is a necessary one?'

  'No,' the King interrupted. 'I have the care of the realm upon my shoulders now and that will take all of my time and my energies. I wish to be a Christian King above reproach, so I will not get drunk with you nor will I have a woman until I marry – which for the getting of an heir must be soon.'
/>
  Humfrey's eyebrows shot up. Their father had been that rare thing, a faithful husband to both his wives, but a state of self-imposed chastity such as Harry was proposing was an eccentricity beyond Humfrey's understanding.

  Harry was regarding him with an amused smile, his reaction so blatantly obvious in his face. 'If you will go to the chancellery office our uncle will make clear to you the emoluments of your post as well as the duties of which you are no doubt more or less aware. Uncle Henry is my genius where money is concerned.'

  'And his first act, so John told me, was to make you repay the eight hundred pounds you borrowed from him two years ago.'

  For once Harry gave him a cold look. 'No one, brother, makes me do anything. I chose to begin with no debts on my conscience. And I wish you to be courteous to our uncle.'

  'I ask your pardon.' Humfrey said swiftly. 'I did not mean to offend you, but I can't stand Uncle Henry – give me our uncle of Exeter any day – but I'll not quarrel with him.'

  'Thank you,' Harry said and his expression relaxed. 'By the way, I would be grateful if you would enquire into the disposition of my palaces as your first duty. I've a mind to rebuild Sheen, it would be more convenient than Byfleet. Now I must see the Archbishop. At least we are getting on tolerably well together now.'

  Humfrey made him a sweeping bow and went out and down the stair, and when he reached his uncle's apartments his fingers were playing with the chain about his neck, a gesture not lost on the new Chancellor.

  It was some weeks before Humfrey was free for his postponed visit to his own castle at Hadleigh. It grew hot in London and Harry was absorbed in the wretched business of Sir John Oldcastle's trial for heresy. The King was orthodox to his fingertips but he had a gift for friendship and it had become a highly emotive affair. Humfrey was glad of the chance to get away. His own feelings on the matter were that it was a great deal simpler to overlook the Church's faults and remain a devoted son. He had read Master Wycliff’s writings and saw nothing there to draw him from Holy Church. Like Harry he had no temptation to heresy and on his way went to St Albans Abbey. As a boy he had taken St Alban for his patron, admiring the soldier who had died so courageously, and the Prior, John Bostock of Whethamsteade, was his friend. Humfrey made an offering at Alban's shrine, paid for masses for his father's soul and then supped with the prior. The Abbey encouraged scholarly study and Humfrey had promised them a translation of Aesop's Fables which he thought could hardly offend the most rigid of the monks.

  The next morning he took the road east with most of his household, Elys Foxton carrying his banner, and when they arrived at the lonely windswept castle Elys was half nervously, half in lip-licking anticipation waiting to see what orgies might take place. He had come from a simple manor near Horncastle in Lincolnshire and was astounded at the number of books the Lord Humfrey owned.

  "What are they?' he asked one of the other squires, William Gest. 'I saw one today that had strange drawings in it. Does our lord delve into things that are not wholesome? I was told –'

  William laughed. 'Don't believe all you hear, Elys. The Lord Humfrey is cleverer than most in that he can read and understand what you and I could not.'

  'My father says that much reading can lead a man into mischief. We only have one book at home.'

  'And that's the Bible, I'll warrant. I've been in his service longer than you and I can tell you he's no time for sorcery or suchlike, if that's what is running in your head. Why, do you think Master Livius or Tom Beckington would visit here if it was? As for Master Lydgate, he would die of shock!'

  Elys accepted William's word and apart from a rather drunken supper one evening the Lord Humfrey seemed to be more concerned with his books and his visitors than with any excitement.

  John Lydgate, the schoolmaster from Bury, had brought a volume of his own writings. He was, he said humbly, a most unworthy follower of the great poet Master Chaucer, and on a wet afternoon read his work aloud in Humfrey's chamber to a chosen few. Elys was in attendance behind his master's chair and found the verses for the most part hard to follow and very tedious. So much for the tales of Humfrey's doings that circulated in the household! It was all rather disappointing. At the end of the second week however when they were preparing to return to London and the literary visitors had gone, a troupe of Moorish dancers came and asked if they might perform.

  After supper when the centre of the hall was cleared, the acrobats came tumbling in to show off their clever tricks which drew a shower of coins when they had finished. Then a girl danced for the assembled knights, her lithe figure twisting and turning in a manner that made Elys feel suddenly hot and think of a particular kitchen maid who had caught his fancy. The chaplain had excused himself and gone and Humfrey pushed the finished dishes away and put his feet up on the table. There seemed to be an odd light in his eyes that Elys had not seen there before. Presently Humfrey banged with his silver mug on the polished wood. 'Entertain us,' he shouted. 'By God, I've paid to see some rare dancing and this is not it. Show us the way you dance before the heathen in your own country.'

  The master of the troupe gave a little smile. He never produced his best act until the audience were in the right mood for it, but now he clapped his hands in a final summons. Two girls came from behind the buttery screen, identical twins, dressed in matching diaphanous garments, gauze covering their faces, silver bells on their wrists and ankles.

  'Pretty plump virgins, my lord,' the master whispered, 'ripe plums for the picking,' and saw Humfrey's eyes glitter as he watched.

  The music of flute and tabor and drum began again and the girls moved sensuously, the little bells tinkling. Slowly they divested themselves first of scarves and then of skirts of red and yellow and orange, pausing between each movement until encouraged by a roar from the watching men. As the last of the garments fell Elys sat open mouthed in fascination, not yelling or banging cups as the others were. One of his fellow squires whispered a lewd remark but Elys did not answer for his eyes were on the master now.

  Humfrey had given one shout of appreciation and scrambling over the table stood in front of the girls clapping his hands in time to the music. Suddenly it died and as they were about to run for the screen he seized one and threw her over his shoulder, grabbing the other by the hand. There was a final burst of laughter and a cheer went up from the men watching in drunken appreciation as Humfrey swung round and made for the stair that led to his bedchamber. The master of the troupe raised no objection to a conclusion for which he could make an extra charge but merely collected the rest of his performers and hurried them to the kitchen for the supper they had earned. As the hubbub died Elys laid out his pallet in a corner of the hall. He felt a little sick from the excess of wine in his stomach and had no desire for the kitchen maid after all. He lay awake for a long time instead, combatting the nausea and pondering on the enigma who was his lord.

  The fine weather had broken and rain was beating at the windows when Humfrey woke. The girls were asleep and in the morning light he saw that they were neither as pretty as he had thought nor as young, that their hair was oiled and had dirtied his pillow, that one had bad teeth and the other, though her body was perfumed, had an underlying unpleasant odour. Virgins! By God, they were not, and he would be fortunate if they did not have the pox on them.

  He got out of bed and went into the garderobe calling for John Patrick. His body servant came, a jug of water in his hand and with a twist of linen he washed the lord's body down in the manner he knew Humfrey liked until the skin glowed pink. The heavy frown he could not take from his face.

  'That will do,' Humfrey said. 'I'll wear a leather jacket and ride out to the chase.'

  'It's raining, my lord, and heavily.'

  'Damn the rain,' Humfrey said. 'I care not. See that Moorish villain has but half the purse he asked. He will know why. And get those women out of my bed.'

  Half an hour later he was working off his mood, riding hard inland after the wild boar in the scrubland. He loosed a s
pear and sent a large lumbering male squealing into a thicket. At once he dismounted and went after it, seizing a huntsman's spear and ignoring the man's anxious warning. A wounded beast was dangerous, but this morning he was in a mood for danger and gripping his weapon he plunged in among the alder and hawthorn bushes. The boar was at bay, teeth bared, wicked tusks jutting from its jaw, but even as Humfrey drew back his arm, Elys Foxton plunged in after him, crying out, 'Beware, my lord.' He had a drawn sword in his hand, but Humfrey, swearing in no uncertain terms, seized his arm and almost threw Elys into a clump of tall tufted grass.

  'Fool,' he shouted and then as the boar sprang lunged with his spear. It went true and straight into the animal's neck and the boar fell. Two huntsmen had scrambled after the squire, both seasoned hunters and angry at the lad's interference, and one bent over the boar. 'It's dead, my lord.'

  'Of course it's dead,' Humfrey said, 'and well for me my aim is good. That silly boy distracted me and might have cost me a poisonous wound, or worse.' He stripped off his gloves and wiped his forehead. Somehow the moment of danger, of swift physical action had dispelled the mood in which he had ridden out. Elys was already struggling to his feet, shame-faced, and near to humiliating tears while he awaited the justified reproof.

  Humfrey however, strode back to his waiting horse without even looking at him. When he had mounted he turned his horse's head towards the sea and called over his shoulder, 'Go on with the hunt if you will. I want no one, only Elys.'

  Astonished, Elys ran for his hack and swinging himself into the saddle rode after his lord. He had never seen him other than witty, amusing, keeping the whole company laughing, or lusty as a dog after a bitch, and this strange ill-temper, the savage courting of danger puzzled him. Humfrey paid no more attention than if he had not been there but went on at a headlong pace until they reached the marshes and the shore. There he slowed, picking his way. The rain had stopped and it was warm now that the mist was dispersing and clearer weather coming up from the sea.