Then it came to him. Of course? She was the child he had seen at Harry's coronation, and he recalled that she was Lady Cobham's cousin. He turned to Reginald. 'That child over there, in the yellow gown, is she related to you? I saw her once before but I forgot she bore the same name as you. A cousin perhaps?'
Cobham looked up from his plate in surprise. 'Why, didn't you know, my lord? Eleanor is my sister.'
'Your sister? No, I did not.' He had not thought of her since, he realized, and though he had known Cobham had a sister he had not connected the two. 'Present me,' he said and Cobham brought her to him. She curtseyed deeply and he took her hand. It was warm and he held it firmly.
'I remember you,' he said.
'And I you, my lord.'
'Yet I have not seen you at court since.'
'No,' her brother answered for her. 'Eleanor has been with the nuns near here which is why I was able to bring her tonight.'
Humfrey frowned. 'Do not tell me, Mistress Eleanor, that you are to take the veil? If so, I will tell you it would be a monstrous waste.'
Any other girl, he thought, would have blushed, but not Eleanor Cobham. 'No, my lord, I am not,' she answered coolly, 'but my father believes a gentlewoman should be instructed in things other than sewing and the still-room.'
'A sensible man,' Humfrey commented. Now that she was standing he saw that she was tall, an inch or two above her brother. 'And do you like what the nuns teach you?'
'Very much.'
He laughed. 'Then Reginald will have to find a learned husband for you. No man wants a wife who is cleverer than himself.'
'That may be difficult,' she answered. Her dark eyes were on his again. 'Few men outside Holy Church have studied as your grace has.'
'How should you know that?' he asked in further surprise.
'I fear I have boasted of your library and the scholars who come to your house, my lord,' Reginald said. 'Eleanor would give much to see your books one day.'
'Then you may bring her,' Humfrey said graciously, 'Mistress Eleanor will be welcome.'
She curtseyed again. 'You are very kind, Lord Humfrey. There is much I would like to see, much I want to know.'
He was startled, wondering at her meaning, and Reginald, not wanting the interview to become tedious for his lord, took her arm prepared to move away.
However Humfrey lingered one more moment, his eyes wandering over her young figure, noting the curves, the promise of a voluptuousness that would be tempting, while at the same time assessing her words. And then he understood. By God, she would have me if she could! he thought, and laughed aloud.
Scarlet filled her cheeks. 'I have offended you?' she asked in a low voice.
'No.' He suppressed his laughter. 'Not for one moment, lady.' But as he walked off his amusement remained that the fourteen-year-old daughter of a country squire should make her wishes so plain.
Afterwards, arm-in-arm with Reginald Cobham, he made his way back to his lodging.
'God curse it,' he muttered, 'I swear that salmon was tainted. My belly is mighty queasy.'
Cobham laughed. 'I had none of it. Maybe it's only too much wine, my lord. Sleep will settle that.'
'I'd not meant to sleep yet,' Humfrey said. He saw Elys waiting by the outer stair of the little house and gave him an affectionate cuff. 'Off with you, lad. I'll not need you tonight, I can untie my own points.'
He found the door of his chamber and there saw the girl sitting up in the bed, her flaxen hair unbound around her shoulders. She did not look up, her fingers clutching at the coverlet, and if he had not been so concerned with his queasy stomach he might have noticed she was terrified. Instead it seemed to him that he could forget one over-indulgence in another and he flung off his clothes, got into bed and proceeded to take her without his usual finesse. Nor did he pay any heed to her rigidity, her gasps of fright and pain, nor the sobs that broke from her. Afterwards he drifted into sleep, lying heavily across her until he woke, sharply aware of rising nausea.
'Get a basin, girl,' he said shaking her awake, 'and quickly. I'm going to be sick.'
She scrambled up without a word and finding a bowl, set it on the bed beside him. He vomited violently, the spasms lasting for some time until he became aware that she was holding his head, that when he lay back exhausted she found fresh water and a cloth and bathed his forehead.
'That fish,' he said faintly, 'I knew it was not wholesome, unless someone is trying to poison me.'
'Poison you?' she exclaimed. 'Who would do such a thing? My lord, I have seen how you are cheered in the streets, the people love you.'
'Do they?' He sipped the water she held to his lips, and then caught her hand and held it. He closed his eyes for a while and dozed fitfully. Gradually he began to feel better and opened them again. She was still sitting there, her hand in his, her eyes in the candle glow fixed on his face. He gave a long sigh, remembering what she had said. 'Do you love me, child? I think, now that my head is clear, I used you very ill tonight.'
She said simply, 'I was a virgin, my lord, and much afraid.'
'And I was drunk.' He drew her down beside him and looked at her, seeing soft grey eyes, a gentle mouth and a young body, small breasts and smooth skin. 'Poor child,' he said with genuine repentance, 'you will think me the beast that some men can be, but I will show you love need not be like that. Sleep now and when we wake I will make you see the dawn very differently.' He settled his arm about her and she lay there submissively, shivering a little until both of them fell asleep.
Humfrey woke to find the September sun shining into the room, and kissing her awake made love to her again but very gently, talking to her, teaching her, smiling down at her in such a way that he saw adoration replace last night's terror in her face.
At last he said, 'I must get up for I've to go today on a most distasteful journey. But I shall come back to you, sweeting.'
'You will? Oh my lord,' she seized his hand and kissed it, 'there is no one in the world for me but you – now.'
'And I don't even recall your name, if I heard it,' he said teasingly.
'Margery, my lord.'
'Then, Margery, I promise you I will come back.' And later at the door he added laughingly, 'And if I've got a babe in you call him Arthur.'
'Arthur? My lord? 'Tis not a usual name.'
'We had a King in England once so called. And if you should bear a girl, why, you may name her yourself.' He went down the stair whistling and out into sunlight. The encounter had made him forget, at least for a while, the unpleasant task ahead of him. He felt as empty as a potsherd, ate bread and meat at the merchant's table and left him, considering the cachet of his presence in the house sufficient remuneration in itself.
Two weeks later at four o'clock in the morning Humfrey rode out of Calais with an escort of his men, several hundred of them, to the arranged meeting place, the stream that ran between Calais and St Omer. They were unarmed and he felt naked without his sword, disliking the whole business more and more with every movement of his horse.
To Thomas de Montague, Earl of Salisbury, who was to accompany the Duke of Burgundy back to Calais, he said, 'God send my brother and the Emperor are not too long-winded about this business. It will be a tedious time for me.'
'I'm sure Count Philip will entertain you well, sir, and you have your own household with you.'
'Aye,' Humfrey agreed, 'and a chest of books and a chess board, but I'd rather be in Calais. There's something that stinks about a hostage. I think of King James, poor lad, who has been in that unenviable state at our court these many years.'
'My lord,' Reginald Cobham sat his horse on Humfrey's other side, 'I'm sure the King won't tolerate too much time spent in talk, and please God we'll be home to celebrate the anniversary of Agincourt.'
'And that will annoy the French,' Humfrey agreed more cheerfully. He had dressed with care for today, a high crowned brimless felt hat set on his neat hair, his doublet of very expensive blue velvet, his hose blue and white, hi
s shoes of red leather, and a mantle of matching blue velvet, trimmed with ermine hung from his shoulders. Every man in his retinue wore his badge, William the herald bore his banner above his head, while young Richard Neville rode at the head of three other pages.
At the stream he halted. A great crowd had followed from Calais to see the exchange and he remembered Harry's last injunction, that dignity must be the order of the day. The stream was at its lowest ebb and the horses splashed through the water until the two Dukes stood level. Humfrey looked at Duke John the Fearless and saw hard eyes, a pale face, and a resolute mouth. He held out his hand and Burgundy took it. A faint smile crossed his face. 'God save you, Duke Humfrey,' he said with easy formality and for a moment their glances met and held. Harry will need to move carefully, Humfrey thought, the man is as devious as a snake.
He rode on and was received with elaborate courtesy by Burgundy's son. Philip, Count of Charolais, was like his father but there was a coldness about him, a suspicious reserve that made Humfrey take an instant dislike to him. On their ride back to St Omer he began by making, or attempting to make, pleasant conversation, and though Philip entertained him royally, within a few days Humfrey heartily wished himself anywhere but where he was.
He had his books unpacked and Count Philip watched as one volume after another was brought out.
'You surprise me, Duke Humfrey. Such dusty work seems more suited to a monastery.'
'And you surprise me, Count Philip, that you should think so. A knight may still use his brain, though perhaps it is more difficult for some than for others.' Humfrey picked up a red leatherbound manuscript and opened it at random. 'Do you care to borrow any of my books, Count Philip?'
The Count gave him a venomous look, the slur not lost on him. 'I have more important matters to deal with at this moment. You may so employ your time if you wish.'
'Thank you,' Humfrey answered with studied politeness, 'but unfortunately I must while away my stay here in some congenial manner.'
Count Philip stalked out and Humfrey sat staring out of the window. Elys Foxton and his pages finished their work and he sent them out to see the town. He thought of Margery and looked at his elaborate but all too empty bed. It would soon be twilight and he wished that there was a girl who could keep him company tonight. No doubt if he approached him Count Philip would find some serving wench or village girl who would be willing, but he could just imagine Philip's supercilious smile and he could not bring himself to ask.
Obviously he was condemned to a chaste ten days or so and with a resigned sigh he opened the book in front of him. He saw his name written there and remembered that he had done it when he lent the book to James of Scotland. It was hardly to be hoped that the Count would ask to borrow one, but he amused himself by writing in each book 'Cette livre est a moi, Humfrey, Duc de Gloucestre'. The thought of Philip reading that inscription with its reminder of ownership was worth contemplating.
Unfortunately the Count did not oblige him. The atmosphere remained chilly and by the time he left the seeds of a long enmity had been sown.
CHAPTER SIX
Within a year, the King, sure of his new allies, was in France again and Humfrey had a chance to further his belief in guns. They attacked Caen and he ordered a solid two weeks of bombardment that eventually reduced the besieged to a state of terror. Thomas of Clarence forced an entry and the English poured into the town. The soldiers fell on the houses, dragging out the inhabitants, seizing what they could, men, women and children running shrieking in all directions. Many fell on their knees crying, 'Ayez pitié – ayez pitié –' but the soldiers had none.
Humfrey and Cobham were busy clearing out the garrison, but as he rode back into the central square Humfrey saw a woman, her head cut from her body yet still holding a babe at her breast, an other staring in disbelief at a bleeding stump where her arm had been. The carnage filled him with disgust. Warfare was one thing, bestial slaughter another, and as Harry rode in, grim-faced, Humfrey went to him.
'Can you not stop this? We have won the place.'
'Yes,' Harry said curtly and sent several commanders to see that there was no more indiscriminate slaughter.
'One sack is enough. I'll not make more enemies than I need in my own duchy.'
But it seemed that some rebels did not heed the warning and the town of Cherbourg still held out. 'Set your guns to work there,' Harry commanded. 'I can trust you to make an honourable settlement with the people if they will surrender on our terms.' Energetically Humfrey set about sealing off the coastal town, sent for ships to obstruct the sea entrance and a detachment under Lord Berkeley to block the far side. Slow thinking Berkeley might be, but Humfrey could rely on him for a holding operation that did not require much initiative.
He settled down for a long siege, organized a market once a week for his men, requesting local people to sell their goods there – to which they agreed without hesitation, having a liking for English gold – and he saw that his men were kept in good health, taking an interest in the smallest of their problems. He knighted Elys Foxton and William the herald, commending their service, and found a mistress from among the local peasantry, a country girl with ruddy cheeks and a mass of dark hair who served his needs in a cheerful animal fashion and never questioned his summons. There was little time to spare but when Humfrey sat down to his supper Beckington saw that there was always a book beside him.
He realized that he was experiencing a sense of fulfilment such as he had never known before, that he was happy. Sunburned from days in the open, full of energy, with the love of his men, greeted by cheers wherever he rode among them, he sent reports to Harry that made the King smile at the impulsive enthusiasm of the wording. In June the Earl of March brought fresh troops and Humfrey said, 'Now you shall see what my guns can do.' He took Edmund on a tour of his fortifications, pointing out his trenching operations. 'You see? We take them nearer every few days and the men are protected by the earthworks they throw up. These wooden bastions shield the gunners as we build new platforms. Over there we got so near the French threw down grappling hooks to seize our hurdles! Last week they sallied out and tried to destroy our sluices where we've dammed the streams, but we beat them off.'
'Oh,' Edmund said vaguely. 'It seems an odd way of warfare to me.' He had grown taller but he was still thin with a long bony nose that he had a habit of rubbing, and he wore an expression of permanent discontent.
'Then try to understand what we are doing,' Humfrey said patiently. 'I would have thought that since the affair at Southampton you would have set yourself to learn to please Harry.'
Later, watching him go forward with the gunners, Humfrey said to Reginald, 'The crown would not have set well on that head.'
Finally on St Michael's day, the 29th of September, the surrender came and Humfrey invested the town. He allowed the garrison to march out with their arms and, remembering Caen, treated the inhabitants leniently, nor did he allow any plundering, only distributing a sum raised from the citizens. He left Lord Grey of Codner in charge, kissed his country girl and smacked her rump in farewell, and rode off to Rouen where the King's troops were beseiging the city.
'Well done, brother,' was Harry's warm greeting and then more grimly he added, 'This business will take longer. There's no way to storm this city.'
It became a stalemate and as autumn turned to winter the weakened people shut within the walls were all but starving. The governor sent out the women and children but Harry would not let them pass.
'It would only prolong the siege,' was his stern ruling, 'and by God it has lasted long enough.'
The piteous cries and pleadings of the unhappy women caught thus in a situation made by men did not melt his heart this time but when, by Christmas Day, they were still engaged on the assault he called a truce, sent gifts of food to the besieged and kept the feast with Clarence and Humfrey.
The feast however was somewhat spoiled when a letter came from the Papal court, from the new Pope, Martin, elected
by all parties, and ruling in decent solitude. It told the King that Martin was so grateful for Bishop Beaufort's fortuitous arrival at Constance and his clever persuading of the Council in the matter of a candidate that he had named the Bishop Cardinal and Legate in England for his lifetime, as well as demanding the King of England should retain the Bishop at Winchester and with all his other offices.
Harry threw the offending letter to the ground and a vein stood out on his forehead. 'How dared he?' he raged, 'how dared he usurp English rights? I will never permit this, never! Clerk, write at once to the Pope, tell him he does not understand our English law. If he wants my uncle as Cardinal and Legate then that is all he may be for he shall not hold one tithe, one acre of English land.'
Humfrey had never seen him so angry, and yet when he began to make a detrimental remark concerning the Bishop's scheming for advancement Harry turned on him. 'Enough, for Christ's love! I know your feelings, brother, but they are not mine.' With which cryptic remark he dismissed him and Humfrey wandered out of his presence, wondering exactly how much their uncle's ambition had wounded Harry.
The siege dragged on. The governor held out as long as he could, but when the spring came, perhaps remembering Caen, he yielded the town on agreeable terms without further bloodshed, and together the three brothers entered the capital of the Duchy of Normandy. 'I could not have done it without you, either of you,' Harry said. They were alone in a tower room of the castle and he spoke with rare emotion. 'God will reward you and as for me, ask of me what you will.'
'A rich wife,' Humfrey said jokingly. 'If you are to have the Princess of France, brother, find me another King's daughter. Or perhaps that heiress, the Lady Jacqueline of Hainault?'
The Lord of Greenwich (The Plantagenets Book 5) Page 9
