Виктория Холт - Passage to Pontefract

Blanche bowed her head in agreement. She had lost the dear little boy she had borne, but now that she had her Henry she had ceased to grieve so deeply, although she believed she would never forget.

She was sure Philippa would always remember those children she had lost. Her greatest blow had been the deaths of her two daughters some years before, Mary and Margaret who had died within a few weeks of each other. She had never been quite the same since.

But she must not think of death now with the new life stirring within her.

‘This matter of Castile,’ the Queen was saying, ‘would seem to have been satisfactorily resolved. Pedro will have much to thank my sons for. He owes his crown to Edward and John.’

‘It was a glorious battle John tells me.’ Blanche frowned a little. Could any battle which meant death to many be called glorious? She did not think so and she knew Philippa would agree with her. If she mentioned this to John he would have smiled at her indulgently, amused at her woman’s sensibilities.

‘Aye,’ added Philippa. ‘Pedro the rightful King back on his throne. I hear news from Joan though that Edward returned from the battle in poor health. She is alarmed for him. She has changed since her marriage. She was such a flighty girl. Capable of any indiscretions I am sure. But she seems to be a good wife to Edward and they have those two dear boys.’

‘It is good for young Edward to have a little brother.’

‘It is always good for kings to have several sons, and Edward will of course be King of England one day. I always rejoiced because he was so worthy, right from the time of his boyhood. But in battle one never knows what may befall and it is good to have others who could step forward in case of disaster.’

Blanche was thinking: John believed that. John had hoped … but his hopes had been dispersed because of the birth of those two boys to the Black Prince.

As they were speaking a woman had entered the room. Blanche had seen her at court once or twice and had on each occasion been very much aware of her. She was tall and had a flamboyant somewhat coarse kind of good looks. There was a boldness about her which Blanche found decidedly unattractive.

Instead of joining the women at the other end of the chamber she came to the Queen and bowing to her and to Blanche she took a seat beside them.

Blanche was startled. Surely it was the duty of the woman first to wait until she was summoned to the Queen’s side and to sit only when she had been given permission to do so.

She waited for the Queen to dismiss her but Philippa did no such thing.

The woman took up the piece of needlework on which they were working.

‘It grows apace,’ she said. ‘My Lady Blanche is a rival to the Queen … with her needle.’

‘You like the colours, Alice?’ asked the Queen.

‘They are a little sombre, my lady.’

‘Ah, you like the bright colours.’

‘’Tis a weakness of mine. What thinks Lady Blanche?’

Blanche was astounded. She could not understand why the Queen endured such insolence.

She said coldly: ‘I like those well which the Queen has chosen.’

She noticed that a ring of rubies and diamonds glittered on the woman’s hand. Who was she? wondered Blanche.

‘Alice,’ said the Queen, ‘I wish you would join the ladies and tell them they are dismissed. I wish to be alone with the Duchess of Lancaster.’

The woman nodded but made no haste to rise and it was some minutes before she sauntered to the other end of the room. There she laughed with the women for a while and Blanche noticed that they seemed somewhat sycophantish towards her. At length they went out together.

Blanche said: ‘Who is that woman?’

‘She is one of the bedchamber women.’

‘She seems to give herself airs …’

‘Oh … that is her way.’

Blanche was astonished. The Queen was friendly to those around her; she had never stressed her rank or behaved in an imperious manner but there had been a certain dignity about her which prevented people from abusing her gentleness. Blanche had never before seen her so subdued by one of her subjects.

There were many questions which Blanche wanted to ask, but she could tell from the Queen’s manner that it was not a subject she wished discussed.

That there was some mystery about this woman was clear. She would ask John if he knew what it was. The incident had been extremely unpleasant and Blanche felt faintly depressed. It had obviously had the same effect on the Queen and the intimacy between them had become clouded.

Blanche took her leave soon afterwards and made her way to her own apartments in the castle. As she did so she heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs below and looking from a window she saw the King with a group of attendants in the courtyard below. Among them was John.

The sight of the King shocked her a little. He had aged considerably since she had last seen him. But perhaps she was comparing him with John who looked so robust and well.

The King had dismounted. He was standing in the courtyard saying something to one of the knights. He looked up suddenly. For a moment Blanche thought he was looking at her, but she soon realised that his gaze had gone beyond her. She saw the expression on his face. It alarmed her faintly. She could describe it as lustful.

Then she heard the sound of laughter. A window had been opened and a woman was leaning out. She was obviously the one at whom the King had been looking.

Some signal passed between them.

Blanche understood a great deal in that moment, for the woman was that Alice of the Queen’s bedchamber whose insolence towards Philippa had been so thinly veiled.

When she was alone with John she could not stop herself from referring to what she had seen.

‘I know the woman of whom you speak,’ he said. ‘The whole court is talking of her. She has bewitched the King.’

‘It seems impossible!’ cried Blanche.

John took her hands and smiled at her tenderly.

‘It is difficult for you to understand, my dearest,’ he said. ‘The King will always be devoted to the Queen.’

‘Yet he allows this woman to insult her!’

‘I am sure he would not allow that. But you see, my dear, the Queen can no longer be a wife to the King …’

‘She is his wife. She has been his wife for many years …’

‘She can no longer share his bed. That dropsical complaint of hers has immobilised her to such an extent that she can no longer live a normal life. This woman … you would not understand but she flaunts her sex at him … She is one of those women who …’

He looked at her helplessly. ‘Dearest Blanche,’ he went on, ‘try not to think of this. It is unfortunate that the King should not have chosen a different mistress – if mistress he must have, and all worldly men and women would understand that, my love. It is unfortunate that this is the one who should appeal to him.’

‘So this bedchamber woman is his mistress.’

‘It would seem so.’

‘And for this reason she flaunts her position before the Queen. She was wearing a valuable ring.’

‘She is fond of fine things and the King delights to give them to her. I suppose he had to have a mistress but that it should be Alice Perrers …’

‘I could not bear it if I were the Queen.’

John put his arms about her and then releasing her held her face in his hands.’

‘I promise you,’ he said, ‘that you shall never find yourself in such a position. You and I will be faithful unto each other until death divides us.’

She clung to him. ‘Oh John, dearest husband, do not talk of death. You cannot know how I suffer when you go away to war.’

‘Never fear. It will not be easy for my enemies to rid themselves of me. I shall continue to live for you, my Blanche, and our children. How is that young lion Henry faring today? And you look a little tired.’ He touched her stomach gently. ‘You must take care of that little one. He will soon be with us.’