The Star of Lancaster - Plaidy Jean - Страница 15

Henry had tried to explain to her that there could have been no other solution. The revolution had to be stopped and Richard stopped it; and the only way it could be done was by promising them what it was impossible to give.

*We were fortunate,' said Henry. 'It could have been the end of England, the end of us all.'

But what lived on in her memory w^as the danger that could beset her husband; and it w^as impossible to know real peace except when he was w4th her.

She was avid for news from Court. Henry gave it on his visits and those were the highlights of her existence. When she heard visitors arriving her heart would leap with joy. Alas, often she suffered bitter disappointment. But those occasions when he came were wonderful. She longed for the time to pass that she might reach that stage when she would be considered old enough for marriage.

Henry longed for it too. That was another anxiety. What if he were to love someone else? His father was married to Constanza of Castile but everyone knew that he loved Lady Swynford. Marriage w^as no certainty of love.

When the young King was married there was great excitement throughout the country. It was said that Anne of Bohemia was not very beautiful and w^hat good looks she had were marred by the hideous horned head-dress she wore; but the King liked her and very soon horned head-dresses were

the fashion in the highest circles. Tou must have one/ said her mother.

Henry spent a great deal of time with his father and it was clear to Mary that to Henry no one could ever quite compare with John of Gaunt. There was a great bond between them which pleased her and she knew that Henry was very fond of Lady Swynford, who was treated by all—on pain of the Duke's displeasure—as the Duchess of Lancaster. It would not be long, said Henry, before they were together. As soon as she reached her fifteenth birthday he was going to overrule her mother's objections; and his father would help him, he knew.

Meanwhile he brought news of the outside world. The King was devoted to the Queen and she was friendly with his friend Robert de Vere, whom, some said, Richard loved more than anyone, so that it was suspected that he had inherited certain traits of character from his great great grandfather Edward the Second. But the Queen made it all very cosy and the trio were always together. It was foolish said Henry because Richard was paying too much attention to his favourite not only privately but in State matters and that was a great mistake.

'Richard has outgrown the glory of Blackheath and Smith-field and if he goes on like this he will have to take care,' said Henry ominously and there was a certain gleam in his eyes which vaguely disturbed Mary.

Later he told her that John Wycliffe, who had caused so much controversy with his ideas on religion, had died of apoplexy while assisting at mass.

'But this is not the end of John Wycliffe,' prophesied Henry.

There was more trouble when John Holland, the King's half-brother, murdered the Earl of Stafford's son and was banished from the country.

'The Queen Mother is distraught,* Henry explained. 'She is trying to persuade Richard to acquit him but I don't see how he can. This will just about kill her. Her health is not good and she is getting old.'

And it did kill her for she died soon after.

But by this time Mary had reached her fifteenth birthday and one day John of Gaunt sent word that he was coming to see them.

There must be great preparations for such an important

visitor and the Countess with Mary beside her ordered that beef and mutton, capon, venison with herons and swans and peacocks be made ready for the honoured guest. The smell of baking pervaded the kitchens for there must be pies and tarts of all descriptions to be worthy of such a guest and the retinue he would certainly bring with him.

Henry was to accompany him and Mary guessed what the object of this visit was. So did her mother for she watched her daughter anxiously.

*My lady,' Mary reminded the Countess, 1 have passed my fifteenth birthday and am no longer a child.'

The Countess sighed. She would have liked to keep her daughter with her a little longer.

From one of the turret windows Mary watched the arrival of the great John of Gaunt, resplendent with banners displaying the lions and the leopards. Beside the great Duke of Lancaster rode his son, Henry of Bolingbroke.

How noble they were—these Plantagenets, and how similar in looks! There could be no doubt of their origins; they bore themselves—all of them—like Kings.

The Countess was waiting to greet them, with Mary beside her. John of Gaunt took Mary in his arms, when she would have curtsied to him.

*And how fares my dear daughter?* he asked. She replied that she was well and trusted he was also.

Her mother looked on with pride as she must to contemplate this brilliant marriage of her daughter's; and the fact that Mary and Henry so clearly loved each other was great balm to her motherly heart.

Henry was watching Mary with glistening eyes and when he embraced her she sensed the joy in him; so she knew that the waiting would soon be over.

There was an air of festivity at supper that evening as the dishes v>^hich had caused such a flurry of activity in the kitchen were set before the honoured guests. In addition to the meats and pies there were dried fruits preserved in sugar—almonds* raisins and fancy marchpane with every delicacy that had ever been thought of.

'Your daughter grows apace,' said John of Gaunt to the Countess. 'And her beauty increases. She is no longer a child. Do you agree?'

The Countess reluctantly admitted that this was so; and

then there could no longer be any doubt of the reason for the visit.

Mary and Henry danced together; she played the guitar and he sang with her; and while they watched them the Duke of Lancaster explained to the Countess that he was shortly leaving the country for Castile where he would try to win the crown to which he had a claim through his wife Constanza; he was leaving his son in charge of his estates.

'He is a man now,' he added.

The Countess was thoughtful. She did not greatly care for John of Gaunt; he was too formidable for comfort. Moreover she knew how ambitious he was and that he longed for a crown. He had married Constanza of Castile in the hope of being King of Castile since he could not be King of England, though he did not live with his lawful wife but with his mistress Catherine Swynford. And he had married his son to Mary because of Mary's fortune.

Now he was telling her that it was time Mary left her mother and became a wife to Henry.

It must be, she saw that.

Meanwhile Henry was explaining to Mary. 'The waiting is over,' he said. 'You are coming away with me.'

She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes; she was overcome with joy.

'Does that mean you are pleased?' asked Henry.

She nodded.

*I am nearly twenty/ he said. 'My father says it is time I had a wife. Oh, Mary, the waiting has been so long.'

'For me, also. I am sorry I w^as so young.'

That made him laugh.

'Listen,' he said. 'When I go from here, you will come with me. My father is going to Castile.'

'Oh Henry ... you ...'

'No, I am not going with him. There must be someone here to look after the estates. I shall doubtless travel with him to the coast. Perhaps you will come with us, Mary.'

She put her hand in his.

'Henry, I am so happy,' she said.

Those were busy days that followed. The great John of Gaunt must be entertained and she must prepare herself to leave with Henry. Her mother watched her with a certain sadness.

yo The Star of Lancaster

'I am pleased that you are happy in your marriage/ she said, 'but sorry that you are going away. If you are ever in need of me, you have but to send word, my child, and I shall be with you/