Виктория Холт: The Queen's Secret

“Henry,” I went on, “it may be that the Parliament will point out to you that you are as yet too young to take over the government. I do not want this to be too much of a shock to you if it comes. I want to prepare you. You must fall in with their wishes…whatever advice you get to the contrary. To do anything else would be dangerous for you. It might even result in civil war.”

“War!” he cried. “I hate war. How I hated going to France. I did not want to be King of France.”

I said: “You do well to hate war. It is something which brings no good to either side…winner or loser…and then how long does the winner remain the winner?”

He nodded in agreement.

“Henry, I am forgiven for talking thus?”

He looked at me questioningly.

“I have spoken to you very frankly,” I continued, “but it is out of my love for you. You know that, do you not?”

“Indeed I do.”

“So…all is well between us?”

He took my hands and kissed them. “How could it be otherwise?” he said.

“And you will …?” I began.

“I see that I am too young to govern,” he replied.

“You will grow up, Henry, soon…too soon perhaps.”

“Dear mother,” he said. “Why do you stay here in the country? I should like you to be at Court.”

“This life suits me, Henry.”

“But we should see each other often.”

“We should.”

“Then we shall.”

I smiled at him ruefully. How could we? I wondered what he would say if he knew of my new family, which was his too? Surely he would love his little half-brothers and-sister. If only I could explain to him!

I said: “I feel sure the Parliament will point out to you that you are too young to assume kingship. You will now be prepared, Henry, and I know you will accept their decision graciously.

“I understand, dear mother,” he said. “Yes, I must indeed wait…until I am older.”

I took his hand and held it fast. “I would I could keep you here with me. I wish you could share my life …”

“You must get well quickly and come to Court. I will send my physician to attend you. He is very good.”

“I do not need him. I am much better. To see you and to know that you are not too important to listen to me gives me great pleasure.”

I was proud of him. He was clever enough to realize his own shortcomings, and surely that is a sign of greatness in a man?

He will be as great a king as his father was, I told myself, though I prayed not a warlike one. Let him be a king who gave his attention to learning…to the building up of culture in the land. Surely that would make him a king of true greatness?

As soon as Henry left, Owen came to me and I told him what had taken place.

“So he listened to you and is taking your advice. He will be a good and great king, I believe.”

“Gloucester must have flattered him considerably to make him feel that he is quite capable of taking on the burdens of state. I am surprised that he was taken in. But, of course, Gloucester stressed that he would always be there to help.”

“Which of course was the main purpose.”

“Gloucester terrifies me,” I said.

“We have managed so far,” replied Owen. “And we shall continue to do so. And having succeeded in this rather delicate matter, we shall have had practice in case a similar occasion should arise again. You see, it all worked out very smoothly. Guillemote managed the matter of the baby very well.”

“How lucky I am to have had her all these years.”

“She is as one of us.”

I agreed with that.

“Now,” went on Owen, “we will send a messenger over to Hatfield and let Guillemote know that she may bring the children back.”

I was awaiting the arrival of the party which would bring the children to me. It was midafternoon. I lay in bed drowsing. Very soon I should be up, and everything, I hoped, would return to normal. I was congratulating myself on the resourceful manner in which we had dealt with the difficulties of Henry’s visit and, after all our fears, how smoothly everything had gone, when I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs.

They had come home. It would be wonderful to see them. Guillemote would bring them up to me immediately because she would know of my impatience to see them.

I sat by the bed waiting for the sound of children’s feet…waiting for the door to be opened, for them to dash into my arms.

I could picture the beaming face of Guillemote looking benignly on.

The door was opened suddenly. It was Joanna Courcy. She was white and trembling.

“Joanna …” I began.

She was thrust aside and standing there, glaring at me with undoubted malevolence in his whole demeanor, was the Duke of Gloucester.

“My lord …” I stammered.

Joanna was trying to keep him out of the room. “The Queen has been ill. She is recovering …”

He looked at her coldly and said: “You may go.”

Joanna glanced at me. I nodded for her to obey him. I was glad that I could hide my trembling hands under the bedclothes.

I heard myself saying, and I was surprised by the steadiness of my voice: “I do not understand why you come bursting thus into my bedchamber.”

“Because I would speak with you, Madam,” he retorted.

“Of what?” I asked.

His face was scarlet. I could see he was trying to control his temper, which I knew, from repute, could be violent. I wondered briefly whether he had come to kill me. I thought quickly: no, not even he would dare do that. His methods would be more subtle.

“I have come to ask why you should malign me to the King.”

I knew at once to what he was referring. Had Henry told him? If he had it would be because Gloucester had forced it out of him. Or perhaps his spies knew that the Cardinal and Warwick had visited me, asking for my help. He would have his spies in many places.

I have often found it useful to feign ignorance of the language, which is plausible enough when it is not one’s native tongue. So, to give myself a few moments to recover a little, I pretended not to understand.

“Please …” I said. “You mean…I cannot understand …”

Showing a certain petulant exasperation, he said slowly: “The King has been here. He has talked to you.”

“Yes…he visited me…recently. I see so little of him. That is sad for me …”

“And you have spoken to him against me.”

“But no, my lord. I have spoken against no one. My son tells me that you are so conversant with the Latin poets…and what pleasure it gives him to learn of them.”

“I know you have told him not to listen to me…not to take my advice.”

“To listen to you? But no. I have told my son…because he asked me…that he is a boy yet. He will govern his kingdom one day…but not yet.”

“The King is my nephew.”

“Oh yes…and he is my son.”

“I vowed to my brother to care for him…to give him what he lacks through his father’s tragic death.”

“I know my husband commanded the good Earl of Warwick to teach him the use of arms…and what he should know…how to lead his armies as a king must when the need arises. My husband’s dear brother, the Duke of Bedford, and Cardinal Beaufort have cared for my son. He is not yet fourteen. A boy of his age cannot take on the government of his country. That is what he is and that is what I tell him. No…no…I say. It cannot be just yet.”

“But the King is unusually endowed. He has the spirit of a ruler. He has special gifts. He has inherited these from his father.”

“His father told me once that he was wild and reckless in his youth. It was only when he was a king that he changed his ways…and that was because he was of an age to understand what kingship meant.”