‘You are a French Princess, my lady. The Welsh are not as the French. The Welsh live in the mountain valleys like peasants.’
‘Oh,’ cried Katherine angrily, ‘they are advancing a little as we talk. The savages have become peasants. I did not know that there was the difference in the races on this British island.’
‘Forgive me, my lady. I did but tell you what I had heard because I thought you ought to know.’
Katherine stood up and laid a hand on the lady’s arm.
‘You are my very good friend,’ she said. ‘Do not fret. I shall do nothing to disgrace you.’
Then she leaned forward and kissed the woman’s cheek.
The woman shook her head. The manners of the French were unaccountable, she thought.
Never mind. She had done her duty.
Katherine rode beside Owen Tudor. They had missed the rest of the party on purpose.
‘I have to speak to you,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he answered. ‘They are talking about us. It was at the ball.’
‘You fell into my arms,’ she said.
‘It was not my intention. I was no good at their dancing.’
She burst out laughing. ‘You looked so … funny, Owen, and I liked you for it. I liked it very much and then when you fell I held out my arms to catch you.’
‘It was unpardonable of me to fall upon you.’
‘Then the unpardonable is pardoned,’ she said.
‘You are so good to me,’ he murmured.
‘Owen,’ she answered, ‘is it not time that we faced the truth?’
He did not answer for a moment. Then he said staring ahead of him: ‘You must send me away. I could go to France. Men are constantly being sent to France. The Duke of Bedford is raising a new force to take back with him when he returns.’
‘I forbid it,’ she said firmly. ‘Are you not my squire?’
‘Aye, and one whose mission is to do you good service. It is why I know I must go to France.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘You shall do as I say … that is if you want to. Dismount, Owen.’
‘Dismount, my lady?’
‘That is what I said.’ He obeyed. ‘Now help me to dismount.’ When he came to her she put her arms about his neck. She kissed his lips. He was hesitant but only for a moment.
She slid to the ground and they still stood together, their arms about each other.
‘It has slowly come upon us,’ she said, ‘but now there is no denying it. Do you love your Queen, Owen?’
‘With all my heart,’ he said. ‘I would die in her service.’
‘And live in it?’
‘I will do whatever she commands me now and forever.’
‘That is a true lover’s vow. I will make mine now. I love you, Owen Tudor, and here solemnly in this green sward I take you as my husband, my true husband that needs no mumbling of priests … no grand fine vestments, no signing of contracts … nothing but love.’
Owen said: ‘How I have longed to hold you thus.’
‘And I to be held. Shall we walk awhile and talk? Let us tether the horses.’
‘What if we are discovered?’
She laughed. ‘I am the Queen, Owen. I shall do as I please.’
‘We will have to take care. If this were discovered …’
She was silent suddenly. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you are right. You could be in danger. Oh, Owen, that frightens me. I will be careful but, Owen, we are not going to be denied each other. That I insist on … but only if you will take the risk. Will you?’
‘I would risk my life for you.’
‘My fear is for you. For myself I care not. But we cannot be denied, can we? We have faced the truth. Owen, we love each other. We are going to be together for I could not endure my life without you.’
‘Nor I mine.’
‘Then we shall meet … we shall be as husband and wife together. I am so happy. For so long I have been lonely. I was fond of Henry but this, Owen … this is wonderful. This makes everything worth while for me. Does it for you, Owen?’
‘My love,’ he whispered, ‘we shall forget everything but each other.’
‘Shall we plight our troth here … in the greenwood?’
He closed his eyes and held her close to him.
‘Let us find a spot,’ she said, ‘away from the world where no one can find us.’
Gloucester was as enamoured of Eleanor Cobham as he had ever been. Not only was she voluptuous and skilled in erotic arts so that she continued to surprise even his jaded palate, but she was ambitious too. She kept a close grip on affairs. She had been immensely amused by his conflict with the Bishop of Winchester and when he was inclined to be depressed by the dismal nature of his prospects she would point out his successes. It had been a complete victory over his old uncle, hadn’t it? Beaufort had had to give up the Chancellorship and being a Cardinal got him out of the way.
That, said Eleanor, was subtle politics, for which, with her help, he had a decided talent.
He did occasionally have a twinge of conscience about Jacqueline. She had relied on him and had really believed he would get her estates back for them both to share. And it might have worked, of course, if they had been able to hold onto the estates and if Eleanor had not come along.
Now his great desire was to be with Eleanor and to spend their time exercising their considerable talents in bed – and that came first – and then in political intrigue.
It was true in some measure that he had won the battle with his uncle; but it had had the result of bringing brother Bedford to England, and that was not so good. He could very well do without the presence of his brother. John took command and everyone held him in such high respect that whatever John said they were inclined to agree was right.
John criticised Humphrey’s rule generally. To be at the head of government was a task not to be taken lightly, he reiterated. One must dedicate oneself to the needs of one’s country. One must subdue one’s own personal desires, one’s greed. That was the burden of John’s song. Let him live up to it. It was not brother Humphrey’s way. ‘Let my brother govern as he will while he is in the land,’ he said to Eleanor. ‘For after his going over to France, I will govern as seems good to me.’
Eleanor agreed.
‘You can be sure,’ she said, ‘that as soon as John feels he can safely leave, he will be off.’
Appeals were constantly coming from Jacqueline. It was no use, he told himself. She should give up. How could she stand out against Philip of Burgundy? If he could not send troops, she wrote frantically, could he send her money?
He approached certain members of the Council. If they would grant her a little money it would ease his conscience. He was not sure whether it was his conscience which bothered him or the desire to harry Burgundy.
John came to see him. Very soon now he would return to France. ‘For which mercy let us be thankful,’ Humphrey had said to Eleanor.
‘You have asked the Council for money to send to Holland,’ he said. ‘This is madness.’
‘Madness … to consider a request from my wife?’
‘Do you want to anger Burgundy still further?’
‘Burgundy! Burgundy! Burgundy!’ sang out Humphrey. ‘He has become your patron saint, has he not, brother?’
‘I do not have to explain again, do I, the importance of his friendship to us?’
‘If you did it would have been for the ten thousandth time.’
‘The need to hold that friendship is more important now than it was when you first heard it. Now, give me your promise. Your adventures in that direction are at an end. Be thankful that they were not even more disastrous.’