The Red Rose of Anjou Page 8

  He remembered one occasion when some of his courtiers had arranged for dancers to perform for him and they came before him, their bosoms bare. So horrified had he been that he had quickly quitted the chamber muttering the nearest expletive to an oath of which he was capable, ‘Forsooth and forsooth.’ And then ‘Fie, for shame! You are to blame for bringing such women before me.’ And he had refused to look at them.

  It needed incidents like that to assure those about him that he really was a deeply religious man of genuine purity.

  Very laudable in a priest. But a King!

  All he wanted was to live quietly, in a peaceful household; he wanted no more of the conflict in France. Did he want to be King of France? He did not want to be King of England even! His great uncle Cardinal Beaufort had assured him that with the death of his uncle Bedford the hopes of retaining a hold on France had ended. Everything had changed since the glorious days of Barfleur and Agincourt. Then England had had a great warrior King and had he lived doubtless France and England would be one by now. But he had died and Joan of Arc had come forward and changed the war. She was dead now...burned as a witch and he was still horrified by the memory of that deed. He had seen her once when he was a boy and had peeped at her through an aperture in the wall and looked into her cell; he had never forgotten her. He was certain now that she had been sent from Heaven. It was a sign that God wanted France to remain in the hands of the French. Henry wanted it too.

  The great Cardinal on whom he relied had said that the time had come to make peace with the French—an honourable peace before they had lost too much.

  Heartily Henry agreed with that. Others did too. There was one notable exception: Henry’s uncle Gloucester. Henry disliked and feared his uncle Gloucester. He was nothing but a troublemaker and his wife was now a captive in one of the country’s castles because she had indulged in witchcraft in an attempt to destroy Henry’s life.

  For what reason? So that Gloucester could be King as he was the next in line.

  No, Henry would never trust Gloucester. He did not want him near him. He had given orders that he must have extra guards and if ever his uncle Gloucester attempted to approach him they must watch most carefully.

  It was the Cardinal who had suggested that a marriage with Margaret of Anjou might be a good thing. A French marriage was necessary. The King of France was disinclined to offer one of his daughters. ‘At one time we could have insisted,’ said the Cardinal, ‘but times have changed and the sooner we take account of this the better. Margaret is the niece of the Queen of France; she is a Princess even if René is only titular King of Naples. She is young and could be taught. It seems to me, my lord, that Margaret would be a very good proposition.’

  He had agreed as he invariably did with the Cardinal and the fact that he knew his uncle Gloucester would be against the match made it seem doubly attractive.

  And because of that he had sent Champchevrier to France to bring to him, secretly, a picture of Margaret, for it must not yet be known that a match was being thought of. He wanted to make sure that his prospective bride was indeed a young pure girl. He wanted no brazenly voluptuous woman, but he would like one who was beautiful; he had a great love for beauty, usually in painting, poetry and music, so his wife must appeal to his aesthetic tastes. He planned to live with her as a good husband and if she would be a good wife to him they would remain faithful until death parted them and in the meantime give the country the necessary heir.

  The Duke of Gloucester was in favour of a match with one of the daughters of the Count of Armagnac. Armagnac was not at this time friendly with the King of France and the last thing Gloucester wanted was peace with France. Henry was not sure whether Gloucester wanted the conflict to persist because he saw himself as a great warrior like his brother Henry the Fifth and had dreams of bringing the French crown to England or whether he wanted the match because the Cardinal was against it. But any match that Gloucester would arrange for him could never please Henry. He had, however, diplomatically dispatched Hans to the Court of Armagnac, telling him there was no need for haste, and at the same time had sent Champchevrier out in secret and in all speed.

  The Cardinal had seen and conversed with Margaret and had reported that not only was she a beautiful girl but she was an intelligent one.

  When Champchevrier returned he would first make his way to Westminster and Henry wished to be there when he came, to save delay. It was for this reason that he was now on his way.

  As he approached the capital he was recognized and cheered by a few people. They were not wildly enthusiastic for he was not a man who could inspire that frenzied admiration in them which they had accorded to some of his ancestors and it was always difficult in any case for the living to compare favourably with the dead.

  Coming into Cripplegate something stuck on a stake caught his eye. He looked at it in puzzlement not recognizing it for what it was. Then he turned to one of his attendants and said: ‘What is that revolting object?’

  ‘My lord,’ was the answer, ‘it is the quarters of some wretch who has been punished for treason to yourself.’

  Henry covered his eyes with his hands. ‘It disgusts me,’ he said. ‘Have it taken away. It does not please me that my subjects should be so treated for my sake.’

  ‘This man was a traitor, my lord. Proved to be so.’

  ‘Traitors should die mayhap, but not in such a way. Have that rotting flesh taken down at once. I never want to see the like again.’

  His orders were obeyed but he knew they were asking themselves, What manner of King is this?

  On to Westminster. Champchevrier had not yet arrived. Henry settled down to wait with patience.

  He had so much to absorb his interest at this time. He was deeply involved in plans for founding colleges at Eton and Cambridge. One of the greatest joys in life was learning and he wanted to do all he could to promote it. The planning of these colleges pleased him more than anything at this time and he dearly wished that he could give more time to such projects instead of the continual preoccupation with continuing the war in France. He saw quite clearly that no good could come of this war. It had been going on for a hundred years and still nothing was resolved. It was like a seesaw, first England was in the ascendant and then dashed down to the ground; up went France and then down...It would go on like that and it meant nothing but bloodshed for the men who went to France and excessive taxation for those who remained behind.

  There was no joy in war. He would like to end it as soon as possible and this French marriage would be a step towards it.

  He was delighted when Champchevrier finally arrived in Westminster with the picture. He had pilfered it from the castle of Tarascon, he explained, where by strategy, posing as a traveller, he had spent a night.

  Henry seized the picture eagerly. A pair of gentle blue eyes looked at him out of a heart-shaped face; the brow was high, indicating intelligence, the expression serene and her hair hung about her shoulders—fair with tints of red in it.

  ‘My lord, you like the picture?’ asked Champchevrier.

  ‘By St. John, yes I do.’

  It was the nearest Henry could come to an oath but it meant that he liked what he saw—he liked it very much.

  ###

  The Cardinal Beaufort was riding to Westminster. He had urgent business with the King but before he went to Henry he wished to sound the Earl of Suffolk, for the Cardinal had selected the Earl as the most suitable of all the English nobles to conduct the business ahead of them.

  The Cardinal was thoughtful. He was getting near to the end of a full and very satisfying life. Born bastard son of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford he had been legitimized by his father and had enjoyed many honours. He had played a large part in the government of the country since his half-brother Henry IV had taken the crown from poor ineffectual Richard and so set up the House of Lancaster as the ruling one.

  At one time it had seemed that the dream of capturin
g the crown of France would be realized. And so it would have been if Henry the Fifth had lived. Henry had a genius for war and when he married the French Princess and it was agreed that he should have the throne on the death of mad Charles it seemed that the war was virtually over. But change comes quickly and unexpectedly especially in the history of countries at war. Who would have believed twenty years before that the crown of France should have been saved for the French by a peasant girl and that Charles the Dauphin, indolent, careless of anything but his own pleasure, listless, indifferent to the fate of his country, should become one of the most astute Kings that France had ever known?

  There was one truth which had been apparent to the Cardinal for a very long time and that was that England had lost the war for France and that the sooner this was realized and the best terms made, the better.

  But there was certain to be differing points of view and the Duke of Gloucester, in spite of everything that had happened, was still a force to be reckoned with.

  Gloucester did not want peace with France. He still dreamed that he was going to win spectacular battles like Agincourt. He really believed he was a military genius like his brother. Even Bedford had not been that, great soldier though he had been and wise administrator too. There was none to compare with Henry the Fifth. His kind appeared only once in a century. And Gloucester thought he could achieve what his brother had! It was contemptible.

  It was a pity Gloucester had not been found guilty of practising witchcraft when his wife had.

  But for some reason Gloucester was popular with the people. It was some strange charismatic quality he had. Many of the Plantagenets had it—it was a family gift, though it missed some. For all his excellence Bedford never had it. Henry the Fifth had had a double dose of it. And oddly enough, Gloucester, who had a genius for backing the wrong causes and made a failure of everything he tackled, who had married a woman far beneath him socially who was now charged with sorcery...all this and the people still retained a certain tenderness for him. So in spite of everything Gloucester still had to be reckoned with.

  And Gloucester wanted to continue this disastrous war.

  Therefore there must be a certain secrecy about these arrangements for Henry’s marriage. A Princess of Anjou was the best they could hope for. It was no use trying to badger Charles for one of his own daughters. England alas was not in a position to make demands any more. A marriage with Armagnac would be tantamount to a pledge to continue the war, so that was the last thing they needed. Charles might be pleased to permit the marriage of his niece—she was in fact his wife’s niece—and he might consider that it was a very good match for Margaret of Anjou, which it was. She would be Queen of England and if that was not a dazzling prospect for the younger daughter of an impoverished man who was only titular King of Naples, Beaufort did not know what was.

  He had selected the man who should be the chief ambassador to the Court of Anjou and he was going to see him before he went to the King. Indeed, he thought they should go together without

  delay to the King so that the negotiations could be put into practice immediately.

  When the Cardinal arrived at Westminster he went at once to the Earl of Suffolk’s apartments before seeking an audience with the King.

  Suffolk was delighted to see him while at the same time he wondered if this might mean trouble or some unpleasant task for him. He and the Cardinal worked closely together; and they were both sworn enemies of Gloucester.

  William de la Pole had become the Earl of Suffolk when his elder brother was killed at Agincourt. He had had a distinguished military career and after the death of Henry the Fifth had served under the Duke of Bedford. He had been with Salisbury at the siege of Orléans. He had seen the mysterious death of Salisbury and the coming of the Maid.

  He knew, as the Cardinal did, that those English hopes which had seemed so bright before the siege of Orléans, had become depressingly dim. England should slip out of France and try to keep as many of her old possessions as possible. Only hotheads like Gloucester would disagree with this.

  Since his marriage he had formed a connection with the Beaufort family for his wife was the widow of the Earl of Salisbury and she had been Alice Chaucer before her marriage. Catherine Swynford—the mother of the Beauforts—had had a sister Philippa who had married the poet Geoffrey Chaucer and so there was a family connection.

  His long military career made him feel very strongly that peace was necessary and he and the Cardinal had often discussed the best way of achieving this.

  Now the Cardinal thought he had found a way.

  ‘A marriage with Margaret of Anjou could be a stepping stone to peace,’ he told Suffolk when they had exchanged the customary pleasantries.

  ‘And the King, will he agree to marriage?’

  ‘He wants it. He knows he has to marry sooner or later. It is his duty to provide an heir and though he has little interest in women he will do his duty. We can count on him for that. In fact he has sent a secret messenger to France to find a picture of her and he is delighted with what he sees.’

  ‘The pictures of Princesses have been known to flatter.’

  ‘Well, what would that matter? He would be half way in love with her before she arrived and that can do no harm. Moreover, I have seen her. I found her good-looking, intelligent and vivacious. In fact, everything that Henry needs in a wife.’

  ‘And of course there are the marriage terms to be arranged.’

  ‘What we need is a peace treaty. I want this marriage to mean that we abandon our claim to the crown of France.’

  ‘And do you think the people will accept that?’

  ‘They have to be convinced it is best.’

  ‘They are intoxicated by victories like Agincourt and Verneuil. They do not understand why we don’t go on providing them with glorious occasions like those.’

  ‘The people will accept what has to be done. Give them a royal wedding and they will be happy.’

  ‘They do not like the French.’

  ‘They loved Katherine of Valois.’

  ‘She came in rather different circumstances. When she married Henry it was in victory. He had won France they thought, and was taking the French Princess to make a happy solution for both countries.’

  ‘What is wrong with you, William? It almost seems that you would put obstacles in the way of this match.’

  Suffolk was silent. Then he said: ‘I have a notion that you have decided that I shall go as the King’s proxy to Margaret of Anjou.’

  ‘Who would be better?’

  ‘I knew it. It is why you wished to speak to me.’

  ‘You are a man of maturity and wisdom, William. It is clear to me that you are the one to go to Anjou to treat with the King of France, for that is what it will mean.’

  ‘You know. Cardinal, that the King of France is a shrewd man. It is not the old Dauphin we have to deal with. Whenever I think of Charles of France I say to myself "There is Joan of Arc’s miracle."‘

  ‘Yes, Charles has changed. There are such changes. I remember my own nephew, Henry the Fifth—a profligate youth who filled us all with misgivings and then once the crown was on his head he became the hero of Agincourt.’

  ‘I shall have to barter with the King of France.’

  ‘It will certainly come to that.’

  ‘And we shall have to sacrifice something for Margaret. And it will be land, castles...you can be sure of that.’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘And the people are not going to like the sort of sacrifice for which Charles will ask.’

  ‘Nevertheless the sacrifice will have to be made.’

  ‘And they will blame the one who made it. Not the King, not the Cardinal, but their ambassador Suffolk. I can imagine what Gloucester will make of that.’

  ‘So that is what holds you back.’

  Suffolk was silent for a few moments.

  ‘I feel that the people will not like
a French marriage and when they hear we have had to sacrifice territory won in battle they will blame the one who made those concessions, that is the King’s ambassador, otherwise Suffolk...if he goes.’

  The Cardinal moved closer to Suffolk.

  ‘But have you thought how grateful the new Queen will be to the man who brought her to England and so skilfully arranged the necessary details for her marriage? The man who has the Queen’s favour will be fortunate indeed. The King is not a very forceful character, is he? I can see him relying on his Queen and then the one she favours will be in a very happy position indeed.’

  Suffolk was thoughtful. There might be something in that but there were too many conditions attached. No, he would prefer not to be involved in anything like this. He was getting too old. He would be forty-eight in October. Not that he wanted to disengage himself from politics, but at least he did not want to run into anything that might be uncomfortable or even dangerous.

  ‘I would rather not be the King’s ambassador on this occasion,’ he said.

  The Cardinal shrugged his shoulders.

  A few days later the King sent for Suffolk. He wanted him to undertake a delicate mission and Henry was sure he was the best man for the task.

  He did not have to ask. He knew the nature of the order. He was to go to France, leading an embassy to arrange terms for the King’s marriage to Margaret of Anjou.

  ###

  It was on a windy March day when the embassy landed at Barfleur. Still uneasy, Suffolk congratulated himself that at least he had the King’s assurance that no charge should be brought against him if he ran into danger, which meant that he should not be blamed if this proved to be an unpopular move.

  They joined the Due d’Orléans at Blois and from there sailed down the Loire to Tours where the Court was and in due course Suffolk was presented to Charles at his Château of Montils-lès-Tours.

  Suffolk was amazed by the change in the King of France. Here was a shrewd and resolute monarch, and it was an astonishing fact that the change had been brought about by women. First the Maid and then his wife and his mother-in-law Yolande of Aragon; and now, it was said, Agnès Sorel.