“I care nothing for danger.”
Her next words frightened me. “And there is one whom you might place in even greater danger.”
“What do you mean?”
“Owen Tudor, of course.”
I was terrified, for she was right.
“Yes,” she went on. “He is the one they would blame. You…well, you might be shut away in a convent…away from the world. But wardrobe clerks who aspire to queens…well, I would not want to dwell on what might happen to him. Mon Dieu!They could call it treason.”
That sobered me.
And Guillemote was satisfied. She had made me pause to think.
· · ·
For a few days I would not see him. Then, when I came upon him, he looked so doleful that I asked myself why I was listening to Guillemote’s dismal prophecies.
Owen said: “It is days since I have seen you.”
“I have been afraid,” I told him. “Guillemote knows.”
“Does she? She would keep our secret.”
“She is completely loyal…but she talked to me.”
“You are on such familiar terms that I am not surprised.”
“She is worried about what will happen if we are discovered.”
“She has a point there,” he agreed.
“They would separate us…and Owen…what charge would they bring against you?”
“Whatever it was, I should count everything worthwhile.”
“It must never be,” I said quickly.
“We must be doubly careful and make sure that we are not discovered.”
“Everything she says is because of her care for me, I know.”
“Perhaps I should go away.”
“You could not. I should forbid it.”
“How did Guillemote discover?”
“She said it was the way I looked.”
“You are beautiful…always.”
“People in love betray themselves sometimes, Owen. I listened to her. She made me fear for you.”
He was silent.
“I could not bear it if anything should happen to you, Owen.”
“I will take the utmost care to preserve myself for you.”
I knew it was useless. We could not stay away from each other. It had begun and it must go on.
So through all the days my thoughts were of Owen; and all through the nights we were together.
We lived in a state of bliss. This was the most wonderful experience which had ever befallen me. I had not known there could be anything like it, and I marveled to contemplate that, if Owen had never come my way, I should have lived my life without it. I had thought I loved Henry, but now I realized that that had been a pale shadow of this exciting relationship.
Henry’s kingship, his need to conquer, had been the driving force of his life. To him love was a light adventure, pleasurable and rewarding in a way but something apart from the main purpose of life. Whereas I was everything to Owen and he to me. Not only was there this all-absorbing, awe-inspiring passion but there was the need for secrecy which gave an added excitement.
There were times, of course, when I wished that we could live in peaceful harmony, openly and unafraid, but the fact that we were living dangerously, in those early days, did add a thrill of which we could not be unaware.
I was not cut off from my son. I was allowed to visit him. It was not like living under the same roof, but at least I could assure myself that he was not unhappy. Dame Alice was a good, serious-minded woman, determined to do her duty; and Henry appeared to accept her.
It was clear to me that Joan Astley was ready to devote that loving care to her charge which the best nurses give unstintingly, and I could see that he was safe in her hands. She would protect him and if—which I fervently hoped would not be the case—Dame Alice felt at times that she wished to avail herself of the permission to chastise him, Joan Astley would be there to comfort him.
Henry showed his pleasure in seeing me and was not overdistressed when I left—a fact which both saddened me and made me rejoice.
Guillemote, who had accompanied me on the visit, said: “It is not as bad as we feared. He will be happy enough and he will not forget us.”
“A child should be with his mother,” I insisted.
“There would be many people around to watch us…if he were with you,” she reminded me.
She was right, of course. She was worried about me—which I realized she had good reason to be.
Owen was still a soldier at heart; his life had been governed by the war in France and he was very interested in how it was progressing. He listened avidly to the news of what was happening across the seas as well as in England.
Neither of us wanted to look too far ahead. Each of us knew that if our relationship was discovered we should be in trouble…deep trouble. Marriage would be out of the question, I was sure.
I should be disgraced and Owen would be accused of treason. That worried me a great deal; but in the first flush of our passion I could think of little else but the joys of the moment.
There were times when we lay in bed when Owen would whisper to me of what was going on in France.
“It is always dangerous,” he said, “when a country extends its dominions. Communications have to be kept up. Armies have to be sent to guard the outposts. It is never easy. If the King had lived …”
“If the King had lived,” I retorted, “we should not be here now…like this.”
He was silent. He had a great reverence for Henry. I think he was deeply concerned that he had become Henry’s widow’s lover.
“The Duke of Bedford is very good, they say,” I said.
“There was only one King Henry V, and he was the greatest soldier the world has ever known.”
“What do you think will happen now, Owen?”
“I think the Duke of Gloucester will make a great deal of trouble.”
I shivered. “I am afraid of Gloucester.”
“He is a man to be watched. But now he is going to Hainault with a company of men to fight for his wife’s rights…so he will be out of our way.”
“I hope he will stay there. Do you think he will regain Hainault? It was what he married for. Poor Jacqueline. I wonder if she knows?”
“I feel she must. Or it may be that she prefers to delude herself. But from our point of view it is good that he has gone. As far as England is concerned, I believe what he has done may prove disastrous.”
“You mean his quarrel with Burgundy?”
“The Duke of Bedford will do everything within his power to keep the alliance with Burgundy, but it seems as though his brother will do everything he can to destroy it.”
“Gloucester thinks only of his own good.”
“Which is what he is doing now. He will jeopardize the English and Burgundian alliance for the sake of regaining his wife’s estates for himself. It is unfortunate that the Duke of Brabant is the Duke of Burgundy’s kinsman. This could well cost England Burgundy’s friendship, and that is something they cannot afford to lose.”
“At least he is out of the country. I have for a long time had a feeling that he is against me. I feel afraid for little Henry while he is here. He wants to be King of England, and there are others in the way. Clarence died. There is Bedford, of course…and now he has married and strengthened his alliance with Burgundy through his marriage to the Duke’s sister. But if Bedford died without heirs…and if something happened to Henry…then Gloucester would be King of England. I cannot bear to think of that.”
“It could not get to that,” said Owen. “I do not know what the outcome of all this will be, but of one thing I am sure, and that is that Gloucester, by his conduct, is putting the alliance between England and Burgundy in jeopardy.”
“Let us forget all about them,” I begged. “Gloucester is far away. He is not concerned with us now. And we have found each other. Swear that you will never leave me.”
“Not of my own free will, my dearest.”