The Lord of Greenwich (The Plantagenets Book 5)

by Juliet Dymoke

  'That is the law,' the Earl of Westmorland agreed. He and his wife had travelled down to attend the funeral and he was tired after the journey, his lame leg paining him. He eased it on to a stool below the long table. 'The Council is here to serve the King and the nation and yourself, my lord Duke.'

  'That is all very well,' William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk, added his voice, 'but the powers of a Regent – your pardon, Duke Humfrey, this is in no way personal – are not those of the King.'

  'Indeed they are,' Humfrey retorted. 'I stand in my nephew's place until he is of age and I'll not relegate my rights. I have, my lords,' he paused, 'the support of the City.'

  'The City?' the Earl of March queried. He had never really liked Humfrey, who made him feel a gawky boy. 'Why should we care what they think.'

  'Because,' Humfrey answered with surprising patience, 'they are a power to be reckoned with these days. You cannot ride rough-shod over them merely because you are lord of half the Welsh marches, Edmund.'

  The Earl subsided but Exeter came to the support of his brother the Bishop. 'Nevertheless Parliament upheld the decrees of the Council concerning the limitation of power while the King is a minor. Of course we must respect my Lord of Gloucester's position, but may I remind you my brother is both the child's guardian and godfather.' And even Archbishop Chichele's, 'My lords, I beg you – we are not here to argue but to work together,' could not smooth over what was plain for all to see.

  So, Humfrey thought, the two sides were arrayed. But he was confident in his own. There was more sense in one City head such as that of Richard Whittington the mercer than in all the Beauforts put together.

  Lord Berkeley who had by now digested the opening of the verbal duel said loudly, 'Duke Humfrey is right. We must hold to the old forms.'

  Bishop Beaufort gave him a glance of hardly disguised contempt. 'Times change and our present situation is novel.'

  'Well, who is going to have charge of the child?' Berkeley demanded. 'That's what I want to know.'

  'His mother,' Humfrey said swiftly from the head of the table. 'I will have no argument about that for the moment.'

  'And his nurses?' the Earl Marshal, Lord Mowbray asked. 'Are we to nominate them? In matters of ceremony it is important that they should be beyond reproach.'

  'Of course,' the Bishop agreed. 'Dame Astley, as at present, and Dame Butler, a worthy widow. She asks to be given permission to chastise his grace when it is needed.'

  Despite the solemnity and the grief of yesterday, Humfrey could not keep back a laugh. 'Jesu! Is she afraid for her neck if she applies her hand to his backside?'

  'It is a serious business to beat a King,' the Bishop retorted. 'He needs disciplining as any other child, do you not agree, my lord Warwick? You are his guardian.' Warwick nodded, and the Bishop added, 'As for his spiritual welfare I shall charge myself with that.'

  His friend, Bishop Stafford, spoke up suddenly and for the first time, apparently awaiting the moment to bring up his own project. 'Now there is another matter, my lords. Our late King was hot against all heretics and to make it plain we will not tolerate Lollardy, I propose that we dig up the bones of John Wycliff – blasphemer that he was – and burn them publicly.'

  Dear God! Humfrey thought, what good will that do? It seemed to him that Wycliff had been an honest man, much respected by his own grandfather John of Gaunt and hardly to be held responsible from the grave for what his more extreme followers might do. He wanted to say 'Can't the man rest in peace?' but he let them have their way in this, being more concerned with his own position.

  Bishop Beaufort had done his work thoroughly and when Humfrey opened Parliament the next day in the King's name, though he secured his commission as Protector of the Realm in John's absence it was only under the condition that he ruled with the assent of the Council. All major appointments including Sheriffs and Justices were to be made by the Council, and he had to endure the indignity of only being allowed to nominate minor officials such as prebendaries of the King's Chapel, foresters and clerks. Afterwards as he left the chamber, his uncles solemnly attending him, he said, 'You think you have won, my lord Bishop, but this is only the first skirmish.'

  Bishop Beaufort looked at him in surprise. 'Nephew, you mistake the matter. I have acted only as it seems wise for the safety of the kingdom. I would have done the same whoever had sat in your chair today.'

  'Do you really expect me to believe that?'

  'If you do not then you see no further than I would have expected,' his uncle retorted. 'Do you not understand that government must be shared.'

  'These are not the days of King Henry III, but of Henry VI,' Exeter put in.

  Humfrey was suddenly impatient. 'By God, you contradict yourselves. You want to curb my rights yet I believe, my lord Bishop, that given the chance you would try to rule single-handed.'

  'I know what is for the good of the realm and if necessary –'

  'And I do not?' Humfrey retorted and gave a harsh laugh. 'You are honest at any rate. But you cannot have sauce for one dish and not for another.'

  Thomas of Exeter laid a hand on his arm. 'We must not quarrel,' he said stiffly. 'We do not wish that, Humfrey, only for what is best.'

  'Then why do you not obey Harry's last wishes and leave my brother and me to do what he willed without tying our hands?'

  Neither answered this and their hostility lay like a tangible thing between them. They had reached the stair to his own apartments, and Humfrey stalked away without even a leave-taking.

  That evening at supper in the solar at Baynards, Warwick drew him aside.

  'I am sorry not to have supported you further, cousin, but we cannot begin by being at odds with Bishop Beaufort. He has too many supporters among the other lords and the clergy.'

  'My uncle brings out the worst in me,' Humfrey said bitterly. 'And do you not see what he wants to do? He would drive a rift between me and John and I'll not let him have the satisfaction of achieving that.'

  'Your grandfather would grieve to see his two families at loggerheads.'

  'What, the legitimate and the legitimatized?' Humfrey retorted, 'There is always that last weapon – that whatever the Pope did before John of Gaunt died the Beauforts were born out of wedlock, all of them.'

  'True it may be but it is too long ago to bear weight now. And neither the Bishop nor Exeter nor Lady Westmorland have ever aspired to other than service to the crown.'

  'Not Aunt Joan certainly, but as for that brood of hers, young Richard thinks himself ill-used by me, vain pup, and they stick together, all of them. You are right, of course, but still I see we are to be in conflict.'

  'Not you and I,' Warwick answered. 'As far as is in my power you may count on me.'

  It was all Humfrey could get from the stately Earl, and to turn to more amiable things he began to talk to Lady Cobham. She had ridden out the shame of her husband's execution for heresy and spent much of her time with her cousins at Sterborough. Humfrey recalled his last visit there and the somewhat odd conversation with Reginald's sister. 'Have you found Mistress Eleanor a clever husband yet?' he asked, and Cobham looked up in surprise.

  'A clever husband? Well, she was betrothed to a neighbour of ours, though I'd not have called him clever. But he's dead, poor soul, and nothing further has been arranged.'

  Lady Cobham clicked her tongue in disapproval. 'It is not right. I swear your father keeps her unwed for his own pleasure, for he dotes on her. If you will not look for a husband for her, cousin, then I shall.'

  'I suppose I must,' Reginald agreed. 'She should have a husband to enjoy her beauty.'

  'I remember,' Humfrey said, 'that I thought she promised that even when she was a child.'

  When at last the party broke it was at the end of a pleasant evening. Jacqueline had been looking for a mislaid glove and was the last to turn and curtsey to him, when he caught her hand and pulled her back into the room.

  'My lord . . . Humfrey!' she whispered. 'They will notice I am not wi
th them. The Lady Elizabeth has sharp eyes.'

  'I do not care,' he said. 'In the matter of my marriage I will not be ruled by anyone. Will you marry me? And at once?'

  'How? Where?' she asked in bewilderment. 'We are all in mourning for your brother – and do you not have to get the permission of the Council?'

  'To the devil with them,' he retorted. 'For this at least I don't need their advice. As for mourning God knows how I have grieved for Harry, but two months and more have gone by and I can wait no longer. Do you consent, my love, my darling?'

  'Of course,' she said, and seeing that he was determined, wasted no more time but, practical woman that she was, added, 'I have always spoken plainly to you. Have you thought that we shall be joined in trying to wrest my lands from my former husband Brabant, and thus thwarting my cousin Philip. Your brother will not like it, for he is to wed Philip's sister, is he not? Nor will your Council.'

  'I care not,' he retorted. Stubborn determination to flout his Beaufort uncles, to show he was indeed ruler of England and of his own destiny, combined with an onslaught of emotion to banish any idea of the need for caution or any sensible thought. For one brief instant his conscience stirred enough to wonder what Harry would have thought. Then he remembered Harry's hint that such a marriage might be considered and he convinced himself that as his brother had invited the lady to England himself he would not have disapproved. Harry would certainly not have held by the high-handed action of the Council today, and it would be a pleasure to thumb his nose at them. 'They may think they can dictate to me over the kingdom and my nephew, but not, by God, over my marriage. As for Burgundy, I have loathed the man ever since I was his hostage at St Omer and if I can put a stop to his designs I will.'

  'Is it me you want or my counties to revenge yourself?' she asked teasingly and for answer he caught her in his arms and kissed her mouth under the astonished gaze of young Ashley. Elys, knowing which way the wind blew, smiled and drew the curtain over the door.

  A few days later Duke Humfrey and the Countess Jacqueline were married in the church of St Martin to the vociferous approval of the London citizens. Only his immediate friends were present at supper that night in Baynards Castle and when all the toasts were drunk and they retired, Elys stood with the rest to watch them go together to the stairs. He found himself remembering Hadleigh Castle and the variety of women over the years that he had escorted to Humfrey's chamber, the visits to Betty and to Lewis John's brothel.

  'I wonder if he will be content,' he said to William the herald.

  'Content?' William queried. 'It depends upon what sort of content you mean. Now you are content with your Dorothy, but she brought you a simple dowry and no great problems, at least,' he added grinning, 'none that you've mentioned. But our lord is set for conflict.'

  'You mean because of the Lady Jacqueline's lands?'

  'Aye, and he has wasted no time. I am to take a letter to the Duke of Burgundy tomorrow. I don't know exactly what is in it, but I'll wager it will stir up a hornet's nest.'

  'Well,' Elys said, 'I suppose there will be conflict between those two as sure as next spring will come.' He looked uneasily towards the empty stair. 'Such enmity dies hard. But I was not thinking of that.'

  William leaned against a stone pillar, his arms folded, smiling a little. 'You never liked riding to a whorehouse, eh?'

  'No,' Elys agreed honestly. 'I got over that in my green-time, and now I'm wed I want no one but Dorothy.'

  'Then you are a rare specimen, but you don't have the temptations of a royal duke,' William pointed out, 'and you have the good fortune to be in love with your wife.'

  'I know it,' Elys agreed. 'But at times something seems to possess Humfrey that I don't understand. Please God the Lady Jacqueline will dowse that fire.'

  'Dowse it?' His friend raised an eyebrow. 'Surely you know him better than that? It needs for her to feed it enough and only time will tell whether she can do that.' William roused himself. 'Come, this is the Duke's wedding night and there is still plenty of wine. We shouldn't go to bed sober.'

  'We'll drink to them both,' Elys said. He gave William a sudden smile. 'And I'd not see him too changed, it is not in his nature, but I like our new lady and wish her well.'

  William took his arm and they called a servant for cups and a jug of wine. 'At least I'm sure she has a better man in her bed tonight than she's known before!'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It had turned exceptionally cold just before Christmas some eighteen months after their wedding and Jacqueline drew the fur hood closer about her face at the end of a long and chilly ride.

  'Are you cold?' Humfrey asked. 'It is only a few more miles to the Abbey, my dear, and there will be a fire and hot food awaiting us there.' The road north was almost deserted on this icy December day but he and she were mounted at the head of a long column of festively dressed followers, the colours of velvets and silks brightening the dull landscape. 'I have done much for the Abbey in the past and although the Abbot is away I think the Prior will see that we are well entertained.'

  'I have always wanted to see the place you care for so much,' she said. 'Tell me about this St Alban who is your patron.'

  He beguiled the next five minutes with an account of the soldier martyr and then added, 'I shall pray for his help when we face your cousin Philip.'

  'Do you think we must?' she asked in a troubled voice. 'Won't he and your brother John find a fair settlement concerning my lands? We have agreed to let them judge between me and Brabant.'

  'That is true enough, but I have set a limit to the discussions. Three months is surely long enough for them to decide.'

  'Time and more,' she said defiantly. 'We are wed and Brabant has no claim on me. It was a great moment when I became a Lady of your Order of the Garter, and with your brother's Duchess for my companion. I wonder why Philip would not accept the honour when he was offered it.'

  'Because,' Humfrey said grimly, 'he knows well that the Order allows no member to take up arms against another. Obviously he foresees a time when he may wish to fight me.'

  'When the three months is up?'

  'So I have said. lf there is no decision we will take Hainault by force. Philip won't have forgotten my activities at Cherbourg and Dreux, and other places. He knows I can and will do it.'

  She looked across at him, her cheeks rosy with the cold, her smile warm. 'I thank God daily for you, my husband. To have you to uphold me is all I need.'

  The great gatehouse of the Abbey towered above them at the top of the hill and five minutes later they were dismounting. The Prior had evidently been on the watch for them for he was there to receive them, he and two other monks prostrating themselves on the ground.

  'You are welcome,' he said, 'for we welcome Christ in you. Our hospitality is at your service, my lord.'

  'I will go to the church first,' Humfrey said, 'and make my offering.' Taking Jacqueline by the hand he led her in by the west door and between the great Norman pillars to kneel before the jewelled shrine. In a low voice he said, 'I would lie here when I am gone.'

  She gave him a little smile but she said nothing and he wondered what she was thinking. Perhaps that Hainault was her home more than England. He intended to take her lands, make them his in her name, but no place on earth would be what England was to him, he thought in a sudden surge of pride. He prayed to his patron, for success in all he undertook for Jacqueline. Then he bent to kiss the stone floor and turned away in the direction of the appetizing smells of dinner.

  The Christmas feast was sufficiently rich and plentiful to satisfy all, but nevertheless in the afternoon one or two men who had been at the lowest table saw fit to grumble that some of the dishes were empty by the time they reached the far end of the refectory.

  'Poor stuff,' a rough man-at-arms complained, 'you'd think the mean fellows could do better for the Duke's men, eh, Seth?'

  The companion he addressed nodded and then grinned, showing broken teeth. 'Tough meat's not for me. Now if
we had a fine deer and roasted it ourselves –'

  They made off to the Abbot's park, caught a hind and were skinning it when they were surprised by several burghers out riding with their wives on this holy day. In disgust at such shameless poaching, they seized the ringleader and put him in the stocks, sending an urgent message to the Duke.

  Humfrey, annoyed at the disturbance came down to the market place to see who had so disgraced his service. 'So, it is you, Seth of Pembroke! Do you make arrows only to disgrace me? Well, you shall see how I deal with such behaviour.' He glanced round and seeing a flat mattress beater leaning against a nearby house, where the good wife had left it on Christmas Eve, he seized it and caught the unfortunate man a stinging blow on the head so that the skin broke and blood poured down his face. 'I will have no thieving from our hosts.' Humfrey swung round on all his men who had followed him here to see the swift retribution. 'Even on Christ's feast day such wickedness shall be punished. One of you may bind his head but he'll stay where he is until curfew.'

  He stalked off, the man Seth blinking the blood out of his eyes and glowering. But to his slow and surly mind, even while he stared venomously at his master's retreating back, his punishment was just, and when he grew old in the Duke's service he was for ever telling the tale as a warning to young miscreants.

  Humfrey promptly forgot it, and after two pleasant weeks at St Albans returned to London. His mind was full of his claim to act as Jacqueline's husband in her territories and on their first night home he told her there had been a letter from John awaiting him. 'My brother has written to the Pope urging him to remove all doubts once and for all about the legality of our marriage.'

  'We have sure ground for what we did,' Jacqueline said. 'I cannot imagine why the Holy Father is so slow.'

  In April there was still no message either from the Pope or from John and the Duke of Burgundy. Humfrey took the young King to St Paul's and then to the opening of Parliament, he and Warwick each holding one of the child's hands. Henry at three years old could already recite his prayers by heart without fault, showing a reverence for the Blessed Sacrament surprising in one so young.