Guillemote came running to me, her face puckered in alarm.
“They are asking to see you.”
“Can you not say I am unwell?”
She slowly shook her head. “They are from the Bishop.”
“From Winchester?”
She nodded.
“He is a cardinal now,” I said.
“I know. From the Cardinal, then.”
“What do they want?”
“Some message from him. Come…let me see. If you are seated, no one will know.” She brought a rug and wrapped it over my knees and my waist.
“We will tell them you have a chill and are staying in,” she said. “Mind you do not rise from the chair.”
Someone was knocking on the door.
Guillemote went to open it. Two men stood there.
“We are from his Eminence the Cardinal. We have a message for the Queen.”
“The Queen is suffering from a chill. She does not want to be disturbed,” said Guillemote.
“It is merely to deliver a message, and we have instructions to speak to her and her only.”
“Well then, do so,” said Guillemote. “The Queen is here.”
They came to me and knelt before me. I bade them rise and said in muffled voice that they should state their business as quickly as possible as I was feeling unwell.
“We are here to tell Your Grace that the Cardinal is on his way to you. He has something of great importance to impart to you and wishes to do so in person.”
Alarm seized me. I heard myself saying: “Where…is the Cardinal?”
“He has already begun his journey, my lady. He should be with you in the early afternoon.”
I felt sick with fear. How noticeable was the change in my body? Would the Cardinal realize that I was pregnant?
I thanked the messengers and sent them to be refreshed before they began their return journey.
Guillemote came running in with the Joannas. They listened in dismay to what I told them.
“What are we going to do?” I demanded.
“You could go to bed …” suggested Guillemote.
I pondered that. It was a possibility, but illness had been feigned so often and the Cardinal, astute as he was, would be fully aware of that. It might arouse his suspicions, I said.
“I have it,” said Joanna Courcy. “All of us will wear the fullest skirts we can find. We will pad ourselves out with petticoats. We shall all look alike.”
“He will think we have a houseful of pregnant women,” said Guillemote.
We all laughed, but our laughter was a little hysterical.
“He will be full of his own thoughts,” said Agnes. “Perhaps he will not notice if we all look alike.”
“That’s right,” I said. “He will see us dressed in a similar manner, as he will think, and it will not occur to him that one of us may be different. I think it is an excellent idea. We must get ready at once.”
We did so and I had to admit that it would have taken more than a cardinal, beset by his own ambitions, to be aware that my figure was any different from that of my ladies.
I sat in a chair covered by a rug. I should still keep up the myth of a chill.
The others ranged themselves around me. Joanna Belknap had a book on her lap as though reading aloud to us. The rest of us held our needlework. It was a peaceful scene—an indication of the life I lived in my chosen seclusion.
Guillemote had arranged that Edmund should be kept as far away as possible from my apartments.
And so the Cardinal found us.
He came to me and kissed my hand.
“You will forgive my remaining seated, Cardinal,” I said. “I have a slight chill. They have been dosing me with their remedies, which has made me feel uncommonly lazy.”
“Remain in a warm room,” said the Cardinal. “’Tis the best for a chill in the head.”
“I believe that to be so. It is good of you to come and see me.”
“A pleasure, Madam.”
He looked at the ladies seated around me. I waved my hand, and they rose rather awkwardly in their padded garments. I watched the Cardinal closely. He showed no interest in their bulky skirts, I was relieved to see.
He had aged. The bitter feud with Gloucester had taken its toll of him. There were lines under his eyes, and his handsome face was slightly ravaged. It still retained its proud and haughty look which seemed to me to be reminding people that he was royal. Watching him, I had the conviction that Gloucester would never get the better of him.
“I trust Your Grace will soon recover from this indisposition which I rejoice to see is not great,” he was saying.
“Thank you, my lord Cardinal. I am sure I shall soon be well.”
“I would not have disturbed your peace,” he went on, “but this is a matter of some urgency concerning the King.”
I was alarmed. “He is ill?” I cried.
“The King is in the best of health.”
My relief must have been obvious.
“Your Grace need have no fears on that score. The King is carefully watched over by several of us, and the Earl of Warwick gives good reports of his progress.”
“I am glad to hear of it.”
“If Your Grace came to Court, you would have more opportunities of seeing the King.”
“I hear from him often. I pray that all will go well with him. What is this matter which so deeply concerns him?”
“Your Grace will no doubt be aware of the situation in France?”
“I know something of it.”
“Bad news travels fast. This woman who has appeared on the scene …”
“You mean Joan The Maid.”
“That is how she is known. She has created a certain amount of harm.”
“A young girl can do that! I have heard that she is a young girl.”
“She makes a great show of her virginity. Whether it is true or not, I have no idea. I rather doubt it…living with rough soldiers as she does.”
“There is a great deal of talk about her. She seems to have achieved…miracles.”
“The French have had some initial success, it is true.”
“Which is attributed to her?”
“It would seem so. It is a form of hysteria.”
“I have heard that it has resulted in the coronation of my brother. Is this true?”
“Yes, it is true. He calls himself the King of France now. But he is King in name only, of course.”
“And the people of France …?”
“Well, their mood has changed. They have, it is true, risen out of the lethargy which previously possessed them. They are telling themselves that God has sent The Maid to bring them victory.”
“And this disturbs you?”
“It is nonsense, of course, but, as I have said, it has had a certain effect on the people.”
“And she has recaptured Orléans.”
“That is so…and there have been one or two other victories…minor, of course…but they have put heart into the French.”
“And taken a little from the English?”
“These matters are very unfortunate. People are superstitious. They see omens everywhere. The French believe that God is fighting with them. He comes in the shape of a young maid. It is nonsense…but it has had its effect, since they have dared crown the Dauphin.”
“Well, you say you do not regard it as important. You say it does not change the case.”
“We do not like it. And this is the reason for my visit to you.”
My heart started to beat wildly. I was wondering when he was ever coming to the point, but had feared to show my anxiety by pressing it.
“As soon as possible,” he went on, “we shall take the King to France and have him crowned there. He is the true King. The throne was freely given by your father to the late King, your husband. It is a pity King Henry V did not have himself crowned at the time of his victory. Then there could have been no disputing who was the true King of France.”