The Lord of Greenwich (The Plantagenets Book 5)

by Juliet Dymoke

  Involuntarily Humfrey said, 'Did you care so deeply for him, Henry?'

  The boy King, now fifteen years old, looked at him in sad bewilderment. 'How could you ask me such a question, uncle? My Uncle John was my dear guardian.'

  'But an absent one for most of the time.'

  'I think God is punishing me for my sins by taking him from me.'

  'What nonsense is this?' Humfrey demanded. Thinking of his recent conversation with the Abbot he was tempted to ask 'what sins?' for as far as he could see Henry spent his time either at his devotions or his studies, leaving no time for the kind of frolics he and his brothers had indulged in.

  'We are all sinners,' Henry said sententiously, 'and must do penance. I have ordered Masses to be said constantly for my uncle in propiation. I have kept vigils for him too. Will you not join me tonight, Uncle Humfrey?'

  There was a sound from the other side of the room and Humfrey, who had been warming his back by the fire, glanced across to see for the first time a silent figure in black.

  'You here, madame?' he asked. 'I did not think you would know of my brother's death yet. News travels faster than I thought.'

  Queen Catherine rose and came to them. 'I was at Bermondsey to see the nuns who have always been my friends. Are you angry that I should come to mourn my husband's brother with my son?'

  'Not angry if you are alone,' he retorted and then was aware how cruel his words were. But the situation had been none of his making. 'You are welcome to attend the requiem,' he added in a more kindly tone.

  A few years ago she had hinted that she might wish to wed Edmund Beaufort and Humfrey's instinctive reaction to such a proposal caused him to urge the Council to forbid the remarriage of the Queen-Dowager without full consent. If she allied herself with Somerset whom he loathed and with his rapacious uncle it would be intolerable, and consequently, having put a stop to it, he had turned a blind eye to the scandal of her affair with Master Owen Tudor, an esquire of no rank at all who had once ridden in Harry's train. She had borne the man several bastards far away on the Welsh borders, Humfrey had heard, and though it was a most irregular business she stayed far enough from court for the most part for people to forget what she was about.

  She had crossed the room to the King's side, her long face more angular and without the youth that had given it a temporary beauty. 'Do not go back to the chapel tonight, Henry.' You have watched enough and are young and needing your sleep.'

  'I need Our Lord's forgiveness more, mother, and my uncle John must be prayed into heaven.'

  'Your mother is right,' Humfrey said. 'There must be sense in all things, nephew, and you are King. Your duty is to England and you need your health.'

  There was a mulish look about the boy's mouth but when his chaplain added his agreement, Henry gave a sigh and yielded, saying only he would go to the chapel before supper. 'Will you come with me, uncle?'

  Humfrey shook his head. 'I must speak to your mother and attend to other things, but I will come later.'

  Henry went out, his hands folded primly, followed by his chaplain, and Humfrey said, 'Madame, I fear both you and the Cardinal have turned him too pious for the country's good.'

  Catherine answered, 'As you ought to know, Humfrey, it is not I who have had any authority over him. And it is his nature that makes him so, not his training.'

  She stayed only for the state requiem sung in Westminster Abbey and then she was gone back to her quiet Welsh manor, while Humfrey ordered a full meeting of the Council.

  Eleanor had hurried back to Greenwich on hearing the news and met him there when he returned after the meeting.

  'Well?' she asked and her dark eyes showed more fire than grief, 'What is to happen, Humfrey? What have the Council decided?'

  'Burgundy has had the effrontery to sue for peace – as if he had not deserted us at all. I cannot see English pride abased by Burgundians and at least the Council agree with me that the war should go on in France until Henry's fights are acknowledged.'

  'And yours too. Humfrey, if that weakling boy does not reach manhood, you will be King.'

  'I know,' he agreed. He saw the light in her face, the urgent gripping of her hands, the movement of her lips. 'I know, but God would indeed curse me if I wished him in his grave. I do not, Eleanor.'

  'No indeed.' She lowered her eyes so that he could not look into them. 'But what does it serve to run from the facts?'

  'I know them well enough, but I want only my place at Henry's right hand. He is Harry's son though, Jesu pity the boy, he has nothing of Harry's spirit in him.'

  She smiled, her expression guarded. 'He can be moulded, led. Have you not noticed how, when I choose, I can make him listen to me.'

  'He may listen,' Humfrey said. 'He listens to our enemies as well, though at the moment, thank God, they do not trouble us.'

  'And will do so less now that John is gone,' she said coolly, 'But you have not told me what has been arranged.'

  He flung himself into his broad carved chair, his hands clasped on the arms. 'Oh, we sent the Burgundian messengers back to Philip with a demand that he should immediately leave all English lands in France and do homage to Henry. He won't, of course, so it will be war and I swear every man in Parliament will be behind us in this. For once my uncle Beaufort and I are in agreement. I am to succeed John as Captain of Calais, and I am still Protector. I shall lead the fight in France in the spring, but before that,' he paused and smiled up at her, 'before that, Eleanor, you are to receive the robes of the Order of the Garter at the next St George's Day feast.'

  'Ah!' Her face glowed. 'You gained that honour for me, Humfrey?' And when he nodded she came to him and knelt by his chair, her hands on his arm.

  'Then all the jealousy and the scandal will be forgotten and maybe one day –' she broke off and he sensed that she saw herself, crowned, by his side. Swiftly he bent and put his mouth to hers. 'Do you think I do not want every honour for you? But only if each is come by honourably.'

  'Ambition and honour,' she murmured when he released her, 'must they go apart? Can I not dream of the ultimate achievement for you, my beloved?'

  'By another death?' he queried and his mouth was twisted. 'I'll not bring down God's wrath on me for that.' And at once he changed the subject. 'Have you not thought my love, how pleasant it would be to have a small summer room built upon the hill there, by that clump of trees? I'll have a plan drawn.'

  She listened to him enlarging on the idea, but when they dined together in their spacious hall, surrounded by their large household all in livery, he saw her looking round as if she envisaged even greater state. For himself, even though he might one day wear the gold circlet of England on his head, Westminster itself, he thought, could not draw him entirely from his palace here.

  In the spring the Garter Ceremony took place and he thought he had never seen Eleanor look more beautiful, stately and elegant, the magnificent robes carried in a regal manner by her fine figure. She swept past the Earl of Stafford and his lady with barely a glance, gave the Earl of Suffolk the briefest nod and if her arrogance angered them it only amused her husband. His Aunt Joan pressed his arm and complimented him on his wife's bearing, but he was aware that she also felt pity for him that he had no child, no legitimate child. She was always kind to Arthur and to Antigone but only so far as befitted their place as bastards in their father's house. Her concern was always for her large brood of children and step-children. 'I wish,' she added, 'that you would be more generous to Richard, see him admitted to the Council. He has served well in France.'

  'My dear Aunt, I would do anything I could to please you,' he said, 'but the seats are not mine to give.'

  'Oh come – you are the Lord Protector.'

  'Richard does not ask me favours. He should speak to your brother – my uncle is free with his favours if the price is right.'

  'Humfrey!'

  He smiled at her. 'When did you ever fear to hear the truth?'

  'Henry may deal in money,' she retorted,
'but in turn I ask you when did he ever refuse to open his coffers for the good of our country?'

  'He refused me when I went to Holland.'

  'He thought perhaps your journey was of no benefit to England.'

  'A small view,' Humfrey retorted contemptuously. 'But by all means, my dearest Aunt, ask him your boon for your son. He would rather it did not come from me.'

  'He has forgotten that old grudge,' Joan answered. She wished Humfrey did not look so worn. He seemed to her to fight so hard for the right things in the wrong way, or sometimes for the wrong things in the right way. She folded up her piece of embroidery, pushing the work into a little bag. 'And if my brother did speak for Richard,' she added shrewdly, 'you would fight him every inch of the way. What a quarrelsome family we are. I wish it were not so.'

  'It has been so since the first Plantagenet Henry married Eleanor of Aquitaine,' he retorted teasingly, and avoiding further discussion of Salisbury's position he went on to speak of his forthcoming expedition.

  Five hundred ships took his force across the sea. The enemy had not been able to block the harbour and they sailed in without opposition, a crowd gathering to cheer them as Humfrey stepped ashore. There Cardinal Beaufort's nephew, Edmund Beaufort, was waiting for him.

  'God's greeting,' Edmund called. 'Welcome, cousin, I have good news for you.' He sauntered over to Humfrey and bowed with studied elegance. He was not wearing armour but dressed in a short jacket studded with jewels, a silk mantle flowing from his shoulders.

  Humfrey gave him a suspicious look. 'What news? You do not come as befits a soldier.'

  Edmund laughed. He was clearly enjoying this moment. 'There is no need, nor are there enemies here, my lord Duke, for I've sent them packing.'

  'Sent them – what in God's name do you mean?'

  'Oh, Lord Camoys and I brought our own troops and my brother Somerset's and we relieved the place. Duke Philip's men would not confront our soldiers and when they fled the Duke, willy­nilly, had to follow. By Our Lady, I'd have given much to see his face! Proud Philip brought low!'

  Humfrey felt his own face suffuse with angry colour. How dared this young jackanapes steal his victory? All France knew he was coming, and now Edmund Beaufort was here boasting of forestalling him! He was as insufferable as his brother Somerset and his uncle the Cardinal, and for a moment Humfrey's loathing of everyone bearing the name of Beaufort threatened to choke him.

  He gave Edmund one malevolent look. 'And where has Philip gone? Or are you too puffed up with your little conquest of a few cowardly scum to have bothered about that?'

  'He took the road to Lille,' Edmund said sulkily. Humfrey's sarcasm always caught him on the raw. 'He will be in that city by now.'

  Humfrey shouted an order and his herald sprang to his side. 'Ride to the Duke of Burgundy at once and say I will pursue him wherever he may be, that I will meet him whenever he chooses.'

  He watched William mount and set off down the road, and ignoring Edmund greeted Sir John Radcliffe, the Commander of the garrison that had held out so well against the French. He commended Sir John and proposing to dine with him walked off towards the Castle.

  He left Calais the next day and at the head of his army of some thirty thousand men marched into Flanders, crossing the very stream in which he had encountered Duke John the Fearless nearly twenty years ago. He remembered the day clearly, the water about his horse's legs, the English behind him, the Burgundians in front and Philip waiting for his unwilling hostage. How he had hated those ten days at St Omer, he and Philip sparring with each other even then, and ever since their enmity had grown. It was Philip who had ruined all his hopes of holding lands across the channel from England and though he called himself Count of Flanders, it was an empty title.

  They took several towns, burned two, the men were pleased with the booty they were able to seize, and though St Omer itself was strongly held, Humfrey lodged in an Abbey outside the walls.

  'If Duke Philip has his eyes open he will see from behind his walls the fires we have lit,' he boasted. 'My lords, be sure that your men are alert and sentries well posted. I'll not have our soldiers picked off in the dark now that we are so near the enemy.' His officers obeyed his instructions and not once was he taken by surprise.

  'Let the stay-a-beds in England see how our Duke can lead men,' Elys said to Reginald Cobham. 'Things go better than when we were in Holland.'

  'We are short of food,' Cobham answered less confidently. 'My men are sick and it is spreading. Please God we go back to Calais.'

  Duke Philip, lying impotently at Lille and waiting for troops that did not come, was unable to meet Humfrey's challenge and though Humfrey for a while considered using his guns on the city, he came to the conclusion that enough had been done to show Burgundy he could not tamper with English possessions. They had achieved a great deal and struck a blow for England; it would be wiser now to return to Calais for supplies and give the sick a chance to recover. The cautious men at Westminster should not say he had been reckless this time.

  He himself sailed home and London gave him a vociferous welcome, church bells ringing, the people lining the streets shouting for him, throwing the last flowers of summer at his feet, and he felt a justified pride. It might not have been a great campaign such as Harry had led, but he had kept his men under control as he had not been able to do in Hainault, and he had diminished Burgundy's pride. His city friends entertained him to a great dinner while Cardinal Beaufort in his house at Southwark dined with his nephew, Edmund.

  'A small achievement,' Edmund dismissed it with a flick of his fingers. 'I had done the work before Cousin Humfrey came.'

  'I shall see the King knows it,' the Cardinal said. 'It is time to talk peace now that Duke Philip has been taught a lesson. How did you fare with Humfrey?'

  Edmund reached out a long thin hand for a flagon of wine and refilled his cup, and there was a slight smile on his lips. 'He was mightily put out when he arrived in Calais to find our standard once more over the town. He is all words, but they mean little.'

  'You did well,' his uncle said, 'but do not under-estimate words. Gloucester must be watched at all times. He would like nothing better than to see our house brought low.'

  Edmund looked at the dark red liquid for a moment before he drank. 'Two can play at that game,' was his answer at last.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A young man was sitting at a table by a window in the palace at Greenwich where the light fell best on his parchment. He had before him a variety of pens and fine brushes, an array of pots filled with brightly coloured paints, and he was engaged in delicately tracing a pattern of martlets on a red ground crossed by a bend sable charged with silver scallop shells.

  The sun fell on the parchment, on the red lights in his hair, there was a dab of red paint on his cheek, and he was so absorbed that he did not hear Elys Foxton come in accompanied by the Duke's son, Arthur.

  'Have you finished?' Arthur asked. 'How long is the book to be?'

  Nicholas Upton raised his head and smiled. 'As long as it needs to be for me to explain all the art of heraldry. Your father is good enough to say I may have all the time I need and his hospitality into the bargain.'

  'He is always generous to men with talent,' Arthur said proudly. 'Let me see – oh, that is excellent, Master Upton. Will you do my arms for me when I am knighted?'

  'Of course,' Upton smiled at him. 'And when will that be?'

  'Soon. I shall be nineteen in the spring.'

  Elys sat down on a stool. 'And your sister is betrothed to Sir Henry Gray. The years go quickly.

  'Oh greybeard!' Arthur teased. 'Anyone would think you were in your dotage. And your lady wife with child again too! How many is it now?'

  'Five,' Elys said proudly. 'Young Humfrey will be twelve come Michaelmas and thanks to your father's intercession goes to be page to the Duke of York. How do you think he seems today, Arthur?'

  There was no doubt to whom he was referring for Arthur answered at once.
'Better. Doctor Kymer says the fever has quite gone and we may leave for Oxford in a day or two.'

  'I'm glad. It always does him good to be there.' Elys said, 'but I think he will not let these proposals for peace with France rest.'

  'I hope not.' Arthur straddled his legs before the hearth. 'It is one thing to be knighted at Windsor, but spurs should be earned in battle, that is why I want my father to go back to France.'

  'Of course you do because you are young and you haven't fought yet, but I would rather see him among his books. Only he believes it would be dishonourable to yield our claims.'

  'The Council seems to do nothing but talk,' Arthur said truculently. 'Are there no young men on it? Now that my lord of Warwick is dead who sits in his place?'

  'The Earl of Salisbury. He came to court with so many retainers that the Duke asked him the other day if he thought he would need protection in the Council chamber. Salisbury didn't care for that but there has always been bad blood between them. Nor does your father like it that Somerset and his brother Edmund are so often at the King's side. They whisper in his ear all the time and Somerset was cool to our lord when I last attended him to Westminster – they are as bad as their uncle the Cardinal who has spent his life trying to unseat the Duke at every turn.' This was not strictly fair and Elys knew it but his dislike of Cardinal Beaufort grew as he saw Humfrey tire of the struggle. Queen Catherine was dead and though her influence had been small she had endeavoured to urge her son to listen to more than one uncle. How she would have rejoiced, Elys thought, that Master Tudor had escaped from the Tower and vanished into his Welsh hills. That too had annoyed Humfrey, for he felt that inadequate care had been taken in the great fortress and that when his nephew was there men were apt to forget their duties to the prisoners in entertaining their sovereign – not, Elys reflected gloomily, that there was much gaiety about Henry's court, too many Masses and too few feasts.

  'Do you come to Oxford?' he asked Nicholas Upton abruptly.