Harry bowed his head.
The King dismissed his son. He had made up his mind; he was going to show Harry and his council that there was only one King in England and that was himself.
He had decided, he told them, to send aid to the Armagnacs. He was going to support Orleans against Burgundy; and to show his good faith, he was going to send his son to France with troops and supplies.
He sent for Prince Thomas, his favourite. Would to God he had been the elder, he thought; and yet he knew in his heart that this second son lacked that quality of leadership which Harry had inherited from his great ancestors. In a moment of clarity he thought: Is it possible to be jealous of one's own son? And he wondered if great Edward the Third had ever been jealous of the Black Prince. Never! He had let the battle honours fall to him rather than accept them himself. But the Black Prince and his father had worked hand in hand. It was not the same with him and Harry; they were pulling different ways.
Thomas came to him. Henry faced him, with his back to the light. It was a habit of his now to stand in the shadows; people knew this and had cultivated a habit of looking at him as little as possible which they knew was what he wanted.
"Thomas" said Henry, "I am sending a force of eight thousand men to France to assist the Orleanists."
Thomas was aghast.
"I thought we were on the side of Burgundy."
"Your brother is," answered the King wryly. "That does not necessarily mean that I am. But the side I favour is the one this country will support."
Thomas smiled slyly. Another piece of contention between father and heir. That amused him. Harry really was a little too sure of himself.
"Thomas, I want to know, whom do you think we should support. Orleans or Burgundy?"
"My lord, if you support the Orleanists then so must we all."
"Except your brother."
"His support would be of little use without that of you. Father."
"I believe that to be true. Your brother saw fit to act against my wishes while I was indisposed. Now I am better I propose to act against his. What say you to leading the force into France?"
Thomas was clearly delighted.
"I shall not wish you to go merely as Prince Thomas, my son. I have decided to bestow a Dukedom on you. What say you to the Duke of Clarence?"
Thomas fell on his knees declaring that he would serve his father with his life.
He almost forgot and tried to take his father's hand to kiss it. Then he remembered that his father's hands were always kept out of sight. There was a rumour that his fingers and toes had started to drop off. He did not know whether this was so for he was never allowed to see them.
He stumbled to his feet. He could not embrace his father.
He could do no more than reiterate his willingness to serve him.
Harry knew that his father was wrong to support the Orleanists, particularly after he had given aid to Burgundy.
"He is right" reasoned Harry with Oldcastle, "to blame me for acting against his wishes. I knew what they were and I should have remembered that he was the King. But he is even more wrong than I to send aid to the Armagnacs just out of pique towards me. A King should never allow personal feelings to interfere with affairs of state."
"Ah, you'll be a wise King, Harry, when you become one."
"My father would not agree with you."
"He might well."
"He does not like me, John."
"It may be that he sees in you what he would have liked to be himself."
"He has been a virtuous man. Faithful to his Queens, and well served by them. He has at least been fortunate in his marriages. It is this accursed disease which has taken hold of him and warped his nature. He thinks it is some affliction sent to him as a punishment for his sins."
"Yet he is a man who has tried to rule his country well."
"But he would say he had to step over Richard's dead body to do it."
John was thoughtful. "He broke his word to the Lollards."
"You are obsessed by the Lollards. I could almost fancy you are one yourself."
"I am, my lord."
Harry stared at him. "You have become serious, John," he said. "I have noticed a change in you."
"Yes, I am one of them, my Prince. What will you do now? You'll not own me as your friend."
"The Lollards cannot rob me of a friend," said the Prince. "But have a care, John. The Church does not like you and the Church has great power."
"The Church is afraid of us. And that brings us back to where we started. It may be that your father is a little afraid of you."
"There's more to you, old man, than I ever thought."
"There's more to me, my young bantam, than most people think"
They were unusually silent; both busy with their thoughts of themselves and each other.
It was Oldcastle who brought home to the Prince that there was an element of danger in his position. "There are some who are planning to destroy you," he said. "They know that the King favours your brother of Clarence. His action over Burgundy has set them thinking. Watch out, my young Prince."
"I am watchful," said Harry. "They shall not get the better of me."
"The King is sick and near to death. You may depend upon it there are some who believe that no favour will come to you through them."
Harry was aware of this and when he heard the rumour that he had taken money intended for the garrison of Calais and used it for his own purposes, he realized how serious was the threat against him.
His enemies had a good foundation on which to work. All knew of his way of life in the past. Was a frequenter of low taverns, a man who spent his time with strumpets and gamblers, fit to be King of England?
"They are right," reasoned Harry, "but that is not the whole truth. I am that wastrel. But I am something else besides; and I have always known that one day I must say good-bye to my former self and become a King and by God's very being I swear that when I do I shall be a King whose fame will stand nobly beside that of my greatest ancestors."
But he had been foolish perhaps. He had followed a certain bent. He had mixed with low company. But I know them better than my father ever could. I shall know the men I rule and those I take into battle with me. My youth mayhap has not been so misspent as it would appear to be.
Now he must throw off his light ways. He must think clearly. He must take action against his enemies. He must not alienate his father too completely. The King was too wise, too shrewd, not to see the qualities in his eldest son. He was bemused now—bewitched one might say—by this loathsome affliction which had taken hold of him; his strength was ebbing away; moreover he was persecuted by another shadow as great as that of this disfiguring disease. Guilt. The older he grew, the nearer to death, the more he remembered what he had done to Richard. There was the ghost who walked with him, who slept in his bed at nights. It was his cousin Richard.
Harry must put an end to his father's enmity. He must remind him that he was his eldest son; he must let the country know that there was no thought in the King's mind to set him aside.
It was New Year's Day and the Court was at Westminster. Henry appeared briefly and then he was draped in a cloak which exposed only his face. He seated himself at one end of the great hall, apart from the rest of the company. The Queen sat beside him and around them were a very few of their closest associates.
Suddenly the Prince entered the hall with a few of his attendants. Everyone present was startled because he was dressed in his student's gown with the needle and thread which was presented to students every year, sticking in his collar. In this simple garment he would have been immediately recognizable even by those who did not know him as a person of quality. He held himself with pride, and leaving his attendants clustered round the fire in the middle of the hall he approached the dais on which his father sat.