The Star of Lancaster Read online

  Joan Waring was determined to show off her charges at their best at the same time declaring that there was not to be too much excitement for that would not be good for her babies – particularly the Lord Harry who was naughty enough without that. She was more concerned about him than she was about baby Thomas. Lord Harry was what she called a Pickle and could be relied upon to make some sort of trouble no matter where he was. Moreover his delicacy persisted and she had to keep a special eye on him.

  ‘We must see that he is not allowed to disgrace himself before his grandfather, Joan,’ said Mary.

  When the great man arrived accompanied by his beautiful mistress, he embraced his son and Mary warmly, studying Mary a little anxiously for he had had word of the illness which had almost ended her life at the time of Harry’s birth. She looked frail still but her skin glowed with health and her eyes were bright.

  ‘And my grandson?’ cried the Duke. ‘So this is young Harry, eh.’

  He lifted up the child and the two regarded each other steadily until Harry’s attention was caught by the lions and leopards emblazoned on his grandfather’s surcoat and he clearly found them more interesting than their owner.

  ‘He looks to me like a young fellow who will have his way,’ said the Duke.

  ‘My lord, you speak truth there,’ replied Mary. ‘He is the despair of his nurse.’

  ‘Well, we do not want a boy who is afraid of his shadow, do we. So we’ll not complain.’

  He put down Harry who made no secret of the fact that he relished being released.

  The baby was brought to him and he took the child in his arms.

  ‘Thomas is a good baby,’ said his mother. ‘He smiles a great deal, cries very little and seems contented with his lot.’

  ‘Let us hope he remains so,’ said the Duke. ‘You have a fine family, Mary. May God bless you and keep you and them.’

  She thanked him and left him with Henry while she took Lady Swynford to the room she would share with the Duke and talked to her about the children and household matters.

  Lady Swynford, having borne the Duke four children and being the mother of two by her first husband, was knowledgeable and ready to impart this knowledge and advice.

  She had a friendly personality and her devotion to the Duke and his to her, made Mary warm towards her. Because she refused to consider there was anything shameful in the relationship based as it was on selfless love, there seemed to be none; and Mary was happy to welcome Lady Swynford with the respect she would have shown to Constanza Duchess of Lancaster and, she was sure, with a good deal more affection.

  The two women found undoubted pleasure in each other’s company. Mary could talk of her anxieties about Harry’s health and his wayward nature and Catherine could imply her own anxiety for her Beaufort family, those three sons and one daughter who were the Duke’s and who were illegitimate, for however much their parents loved them the stigma was there and the rest of the world would not pretend it was not.

  However, they were philosophical and both happy with their lot.

  Catherine could interest herself in the trivia of domesticity as deeply as Mary could. She could admire Mary’s handsome popinjay in its beautiful cage and declare that, although many of the fashionable ladies possessed them, she had never seen a finer bird than Mary’s. She could laugh at the antics of Mary’s dogs and compliment her on the decorated collars of silk in green and white check, which she herself had had made for them. All this she could do as any woman might and yet she had a deep awareness of political matters which she could discuss with a lucidity Mary had discovered in no one else and consequently she could more clearly picture what was happening. Moreover Catherine shared Mary’s fears of what their men might be led into; and they felt similarly about the futility of war and any sort of conflict. Thus they found great pleasure in each other’s company.

  Meanwhile the Duke was in earnest conclave with his son. He knew of course what had happened in his absence, how Henry with the other four Lords Appellant had faced the King and forced the Merciless Parliament on him.

  ‘Dangerous,’ commented the Duke. ‘And your uncle Thomas is not to be trusted.’

  ‘Well I know that,’ replied Henry, ‘but our action bore fruit.’

  ‘Do not underestimate Richard,’ insisted his father. ‘He acts foolishly I admit but he has flashes of wisdom. You see he has extricated himself from a very difficult position, accepts the restrictions imposed on him and now that he is not hedged in by his favourites, rules moderately well.’

  ‘Yet it was necessary to act as he did.’

  ‘That I do not deny. But be wary, Henry. Richard is not likely to forget you five, and he is one who bears grudges. It might well be that he will seek some revenge.’

  ‘But he must realise that affairs run more smoothly now. He should be grateful to us.’

  ‘Do you think a king, no matter who he was, would ever forget being confronted by five of his subjects who threaten to take his crown if he does not behave as they think fit. Nay, Henry. Walk warily. My advice to you is to stay in the country for a while. Keep out of politics. It is a course I have had to follow from time to time and always did so with advantage.’

  Henry did see the point of this and decided he would try it for a while but, as he pointed out to his father, he could not be content for ever with the life of a country squire.

  ‘There is to be a great joust at St Inglebert near Calais. Why do you not go and show them your skill? Your brother John should go with you. I doubt there are two knights in France or England who could compare with you two.’

  The Duke spoke with pride. He was always trying to bring forward the Beaufort bastards, the sons of Catherine, and he liked Henry to be on good terms with his half-brothers.

  ‘It would keep you busy for a while,’ went on the Duke, ‘and one can never be sure what is going to happen next. There might come a time when it would be necessary for you to take some part in shaping affairs. But this is not the time. Richard has regained some popularity since de Vere went. The people do not want trouble. Wait, Henry. Go carefully, but keep your image before the people. They like you better than they ever liked me. It would be wise for you to let it remain so.’

  ‘You ever gave me good advice,’ said Henry.

  ‘My dear son, you are my hope. Everything I dreamed of for myself, I want for you. My affairs in Castile are settled now. Constanza’s girl – and mine – has married the heir to the throne and will be Queen of the Asturias. That settles that matter. Constanza is pleased. She will not have the crown nor shall I, but our daughter will wear it. Your sister Philippa has married the King of Portugal. I feel I need no longer take an active part in state affairs. I have not achieved what I set out to, but who does? I must now live through my children. Henry, one day, who knows what will be yours . . . Be ready for it. Richard is unstable . . . the day may come . . . But I will say no more. It is unwise to dream too much. But be ready . . . It is a stormy path to greatness; so many fall through a false step. We are set fair. You have two fine sons. I am proud of you.’

  ‘You are right in all you say, Father,’ said Henry; and they were silent, both looking into the future and there were dreams of greatness in their eyes.

  Before John of Gaunt’s visit was over Henry had made up his mind to join the joust at St Inglebert; and by the time he left Kenilworth Mary was once more pregnant.

  The two brothers set out for France and threw themselves wholeheartedly into the task of upholding English honour against the French.

  They were friends, having known each other well throughout their childhood. Their father had never wished to segregate his legitimate children by Blanche of Lancaster from those who were illegitimate by Catherine Swynford. His daughter Catherine by Constanza of Castile had always lived with her mother; but the rest of the family had been together a good deal, often under the care of Lady Swynford.

  John was a young man with his eye to his own advantage. He was a little younger
than Henry, though not much, he being the eldest of the Beaufort boys. He was handsome, showing more than a trace or two of his Plantagenet origins and he had inherited a little of his mother’s unusual beauty. He was quick, clever, and a pleasant companion; and, although he had ambitions of his own, he never for one moment forgot that Henry was the heir of Lancaster, that he had the tremendous advantage of being the legitimate son and John knew that all the blessings which his mother, brothers and sisters had enjoyed had flowed from John of Gaunt, and when that benefactor was removed – and death only would remove him – they would have to come from Henry who then would be the new Duke of Lancaster.

  John had a great admiration for royalty. It had been bred in him; it was his boast that he had royal blood in his veins – even though it had been injected on the wrong side of the blanket – and therefore he doubly admired Henry, for that blood had come to him not only through his father but also through his mother.

  Henry was descended from Henry the Third on both sides, for his mother and father were that king’s great-great-grandchildren and their great grandfathers Edward the First and Edmund Duke of Lancaster had been brothers.

  There was complete harmony between the brothers – John being determined to please Henry and Henry enjoying the obvious respect of his half-brother. Moreover it was not merely paternal pride when John of Gaunt had declared them to be two of the finest exponents of the joust in England and France. They had received the best possible instruction in their childhood and both being of a nature which longed to excel they had turned into truly formidable opponents for any who challenged them.

  It was a glittering occasion, and a happy one, for it was such a pleasure to go into combat against the French in a joust à Plaisance, and it transpired that the two champions were Henry of Bolingbroke and his half-brother John Beaufort. Honour was done to them and they were cheered and fêted.

  Louis de Clermont, Duke de Bourbon, who was among the knights present, was greatly impressed by their prowess and he invited them to come to his tent where he promised to entertain them royally.

  Many of the French nobles were gathered there and the guests were served with special delicacies and fine wine such as the French produced better than any other nation; and during the feast Louis de Clermont talked at great length about an expedition he was going to launch.

  ‘I have had a deputation sent to me from the rich merchants of Genoa,’ he explained to Henry and John. ‘It appears they are plagued by Barbary pirates who waylay their ships and rob them of their merchandise. They say the menace grows and they plead for help.’

  ‘What do you propose to do?’ asked Henry.

  ‘It would be profitable for all those who took part,’ went on Louis. ‘It would be a great adventure. We should be helping to promote trade. The merchants are doing good work. But they cannot go on if this wicked piracy continues. You ask what I propose, my friend. It is to take out a band of brave and adventurous men and attack El Mahadia, the home of the corsairs. They sail from there; they have their homes there. Mahadia grows richer as Genoa grows poorer. The robbers are winning the battle against honest traders.’

  ‘It sounds a worthy project,’ said John Beaufort.

  ‘It is, indeed it is. What I need is men who know how to handle a sword. They are desperate men, these corsairs. It would be a fine adventure. We should recapture the spoils which have been stolen from the merchants and let me tell you, the merchants would be so grateful to see the end of the corsairs that the goods would be our reward.’

  ‘Are you inviting us to join your expedition?’ asked Henry.

  ‘I should be glad of your company,’ was the answer.

  John Beaufort’s eyes were gleaming. The thought of that treasure was very attractive to him.

  Henry was more cautious. ‘Let us think about it,’ he said. ‘It is not a matter to be lightly decided.’

  Louis de Clermont agreed. He was pleased; he felt certain that these two young men, who certainly knew how to handle a sword, would be members of his party.

  When they were alone in their tent Henry and John discussed the proposition and John listened with the utmost respect to what his half-brother had to say.

  ‘Our father thinks that I should not become embroiled in politics,’ said Henry. ‘It might be a good plan to go to El Mahadia, particularly if there are good profits to be made.’

  John enthusiastically agreed.

  ‘We have given a good account of ourselves at the joust,’ he said. ‘Why should we not do the same and reap some profit with it?’

  ‘Then let us go,’ cried Henry.

  ‘Together,’ echoed John.

  ‘We should return to England with all speed. We shall need to equip ourselves and that will take a little time.’

  ‘We could leave for England tomorrow.’

  ‘Then let us do it.’

  Louis de Clermont was overjoyed at their promise to join his expedition and as soon as the tide permitted they set sail for Dover.

  Henry was back in England in time for the birth of his third son. He was named John. So now he and Mary had three boys and their grandfather was delighted to have this one named after him. Young Harry was three years old and showing a decidedly rebellious character. The fact that he still had a tendency to be delicate meant that he was spoilt a little by Joan Waring who rarely let him out of her sight. He was undoubtedly the king of the nursery, which was understandable on account of his seniority, but there was that about Master Harry which implied that nothing would deter him in the business of getting his own way.

  Mary was disturbed when Henry told her that he was going to attack the Barbary pirates. She had been pleased for him to go to the joust at St Inglebert. He had stressed that it had been á Plaisance and she had thought, It is just a game really, jousting with blunted lances or those fitted with special heads which rendered them harmless. Why could they not always fight like that – if fight they must? But the Barbary pirates were different. They were desperate men. There was real danger there.

  Henry tried to soothe her; he gave her an account of the jousts at St Inglebert and stressed his own success and that of his half-brother, in the hope of implying that they would know how they would defend themselves. But Mary could not be comforted and was very uneasy, although she tried to hide this.

  While Henry was mustering the knights he would take with him and giving instructions to Richard Kyngeston, the man whom he called his ‘treasurer of war’, as to what weapons and stores would be needed, he did manage to spend a little time with his family.

  He delighted in his sons and in particular in Harry. This eldest son of his was so bright, a boy to be proud of. The fact that he was constantly in some kind of mischief amused his father. Of course the child, being of a quick and lively mind, had already grasped his importance. Joan Waring might scold and even deliver the occasional slap but she was always ready to follow that with a cuddle and an assurance that naughty as he was he was her very special Lord Harry.

  He would climb onto his father’s knee and Henry told him about the joust, and how he had tilted his lance at his opponent and thundered to meet him.

  Harry listened, brown eyes alight with excitement. He was dark for a Plantagenet, but handsome none the less, with an oval-shaped face and a nose which was long and straight. He was too thin but Joan Waring had reported that he was the most lively agile child she had ever encountered and it was her opinion that he would grow out of his childhood delicacy.

  ‘Go on. Go on!’ Harry would shout if his father paused and even went so far as to thump him on the chest if he were not quick enough, which should have brought a reproof but Henry was so pleased to see his son excited that he let that pass and obeyed him.

  ‘We scored a great victory over the French. We were honoured throughout the country. I and your uncle John Beaufort were the heroes of the hour.’

  Harry did not take his eyes from his father’s face and Henry wondered how much of what he was told he unde
rstood. He had a notion that Harry just liked to be seated on his father’s knee because his father was the most important person in the castle – apart from Harry himself of course – and Harry liked to be made much of by him.

  His father watched him ride his little pony, on a leading rein naturally. There must be no risk to the heir of Lancaster even though he had two sturdy young brothers. Henry, like everyone else in the household, felt that there was something rather special about young Harry.

  His father went down to the field to watch him ride with his riding-master. Round and round the field they went. Harry was flushed with excitement and every time he rode past his father he looked at him sharply to see whether his full attention was given to the marvellous prowess of his son.

  One day Henry was standing with one or two of his men watching the riding lesson when Richard Kyngeston came out to speak to him. There had been a hold up of some of the supplies and they would not be leaving for Dover for a week.

  Henry turned aside to discuss this with Kyngeston just as Harry rode by and seeing that his father’s attention was not on him, Harry suddenly, by some trick which he had obviously learned, disengaged himself from the riding-master, and broke into a gallop.

  The riding-master cried out in great alarm as he went after the boy, and Henry immediately forgot Kyngeston as he saw his son making straight for the hedge.

  ‘Oh God help us,’ he cried. ‘The boy will be killed.’

  Harry was still ahead of the riding-master. Henry started to run. The boy had reached the hedge and turning and slackening speed began to canter across the field. He was smiling triumphantly as the riding-master caught up with him.

  Henry said coldly: ‘You are a wicked boy.’

  Harry looked defiant and still pleased with himself.

  ‘You know you are forbidden to do that.’ The boy just regarded him rather insolently, Henry thought. ‘Do you not?’ he shouted.