‘Bills have been posted on the gates of my palace,’ he told Warwick. ‘The labourers have been meeting and threatening what they will do to me if they lay their hands on me. I tell you, Warwick, there is no joy in this task … even without the presence of the Duke of Gloucester. I have taken the precaution of putting a garrison in the Tower in case there should be trouble. I dread to think of what would happen now if Gloucester rode into London.’

He was soon to discover.

In a few days Gloucester was making it known that he was back and he was going to find out how deeply offended his friends the Londoners were with the Bishop.

In the first place he had sent messages to the Mayor, whom he knew to be on his side with the merchants who believed that the Bishop had treated them badly.

‘My good friend,’ he wrote, ‘we must curb the prejudices of this upstart Bishop against our worthy citizens. I beg of you place a guard on the bridge so that when the Bishop would cross into the city he is prevented from doing so. It will let him know that I am back to uphold the rights of the Londoners.’

The Mayor obeyed Humphrey and when the Bishop was about to make his way into the city he was challenged by men-at-arms who told him that on the orders of the Mayor and the Duke of Gloucester he could not be allowed to enter.

As was inevitable, in spite of the Bishop’s effort to curb it, fighting broke out between the Bishop’s followers and those citizens who were determined to uphold the Mayor’s decision.

Uneasily the Bishop retired. It was even worse than he had imagined. Not content with creating harm to English rule in France by angering the Duke of Burgundy, Gloucester was now set on making trouble at home.

The Bishop sought out Warwick once more. There was no need to explain to him what had happened at the bridge. It was common knowledge.

‘The fighting was fierce while it lasted,’ explained the Bishop. ‘If I had not retired and called off my men there could have been a disastrous riot. Heaven knows how far it would have gone. I wonder, my lord, if you will agree with me that there is only one thing to be done. If you and the Council agree I propose to do it without delay.’

Warwick nodded gravely. ‘I presume you mean that we must ask the Duke of Bedford to return.’

‘That is exactly what I had in mind.’

‘I fear it is necessary. It may be dangerous however for him to leave France at this time when the alliance with Burgundy has been so impaired.’

‘Gloucester has made trouble in France; he could make greater trouble in England.’

‘That is true. And when all is weighed and considered it is England which must be defended first … if it is a matter of making a choice.’

‘I see you are in agreement with me. I must send an urgent message to the Duke of Bedford. However much his presence is needed in France it is even more urgently needed here.’

That very day the Bishop dispatched an urgent message to the Duke of Bedford.


* * *

Little Henry was being dressed in a crimson velvet robe. It was a lovely April day and it was decided that he must appear before the people at St Paul’s. The opinion seemed to be that the sight of their baby King might help to appease the angry discontent which was beginning to prevail among the Londoners since the return of Humphrey.

Katherine looked rather sadly at her little son. He would not be four years old until December. It seemed a pity to force him into these ceremonies. She wondered what he thought of all the pomp. He showed no sign of being disturbed by it.

She had tried to explain to him.

‘It is because you are the King, my dearest. The people want to see you.’

‘Are you a King too?’ he asked.

‘No, only boys can be Kings. I am a Queen.’

‘Is Joan a Queen? Is Alice?’

Poor sweet child! What a lot he had to learn.

‘You must smile at the people when they cheer you.’

‘Why will they cheer me?’

‘Because you are the King. Because they like you.’

He smiled then. Dame Alice was a little stern with him. After all, she had been given the right to chastise him. Not that she did very often because he was a good boy, scarcely ever in need of chastisement. And he never bore a grudge against Alice any more than he did against Joan. He loved them dearly. They were part of his life as his mother was. And Owen, of course.

When he sat on his pony Owen led him round the field. He enjoyed that. Owen talked to him in a soft Welsh voice which Henry liked. If Owen stopped talking he would say: ‘Go on, Owen. Go on.’ And Owen would talk about the Welsh mountains and when he was a little boy no bigger than Henry and although Henry did not understand all that was said he liked to hear Owen talk.

His mother liked to be there. She would put her arms about him and smile from him to Owen. He liked the three of them to be together like that.

Now he was going to ride through the streets of London and all the people would come to see him because they liked him, so he had to remember to smile at them and like them.

‘Alice,’ he said, ‘suppose I don’t like them?’

‘You’ll like them,’ said Alice. ‘You’ve got to. They’re your people.’

His people! Like his horse. Like the beads on a stick which his mother had given him. His, like that, he wanted to know.

Well not quite, was the answer but one day he would understand. It was often One Day. There was so much he would know then but when would One Day come?

His mother showed him the little velvet cap turned up round the brim above which was a little crown. They put it on his head.

‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘It’s heavy. It hurts me.’

‘Come, sweetheart,’ said his mother. ‘You have to wear it, you know.’

‘I shan’t,’ said the King, snatching it off his head.

Stern Alice took it and replaced it. ‘Kings,’ she said very solemnly, ‘have to wear their crowns whether they like them or not.’

That seemed to settle it. He was wondering about Kings and the people who were his and forgot about the crown on his hat.

How the people cheered him! They loved him. He looked so incongruous in his royal robes with the miniature crown on his head and his fat little hand clutching the miniature sceptre. He smiled. They liked him. They were his in some strange way which he would understand One Day.

They took him into St Paul’s and there he was set upon his feet and two lords so magnificently clad that he wanted to stare at them and examine the jewels on their robes walked with him to the high altar.

There was a great deal of talking and it seemed to go on for a very long time but he was very interested in the proceedings and afterwards they led him out of the church and placed him on a beautiful little white horse and he was led through the streets of London. All the traders in the Chepe stood watching him with wonder and several women called out ‘God bless him.’ He was their darling little King. They threw kisses at him.

And he thought then that it was a very nice thing to be a King after all.


* * *

John discussed with Anne the letter he had received from the Bishop and the Council.

‘It seems,’ he said, ‘that my brother Gloucester creates trouble wherever he is. I really think it is imperative that I return to England.’

The Earl of Warwick had come to France and he had disturbing stories to tell of the troubles which were working to a climax in England. ‘Your brother,’ he said, ‘is determined to oust Henry Beaufort from the Chancellorship.’

John shook his head. ‘My uncle is a good and honourable man. Would I could say the same for my brother.’

‘The Duke of Gloucester is a very ambitious man, my lord. And when a country has a King who is a minor that can create a difficult situation.’

‘ ’Tis so, my lord Warwick. I would to God my brother Henry had not died and left us this burden.’

‘A tragedy indeed. One so able … so noble … and to die in his prime when he was needed as few have been needed before.’

‘It was a stroke of great misfortune for our country. But we must do what we can to avert disaster.’

‘Which means, my lord, I think that your presence is needed to sort out this trouble.’

‘I am not happy about the state of affairs here in France.’

‘Nay, this affair of Burgundy …’

‘He was my friend, Warwick. His sister is my wife.’

‘Let us be thankful for that, my lord.’

‘Oh, I am fortunate in my marriage. Anne will do all she can to keep her brother at my side. But it is disquieting that Holland and Zealand are already in Burgundy’s hand. When the ex-Bishop of Liège died – most conveniently – Burgundy declared himself the heir and marched in. There remains Hainault and I understand Burgundy is attacking that unhappy land at this time.’

‘What chance has Jacqueline against him?’

‘None.’

‘And she is left alone to face him.’

‘Deserted by my brother. But it would have made no difference if he had been there. Burgundy will conquer Hainault in no time. You see what my brother has done. He has alienated Burgundy from us and at the same time increased Burgundy’s power.’

‘He will be filled with remorse.’

‘Will he? He will not regret the harm he has done me. He will just mourn the loss of the lands he tried to win.’

‘And, my lord, can you leave this field now?’

‘I must, Warwick. I cannot allow dissension in England. What I propose to do is to leave men whom I can trust here while I go to England. I hope my stay there will be brief. But go I must. Warwick, it pleases me to see you here and I am going to appoint you to remain here and with the help of Salisbury and Suffolk to look after matters in my absence.’

Warwick bowed and said that he would do all in his power to serve his country, and Bedford was pleased.

Then he returned to Anne.

‘I wonder how you will like to journey to my country?’ he said.

‘I shall like better to go to your country with you than for you to go there alone,’ she replied.

Their relationship had deepened since he freed the men of D’Orsay at her request. She was with him … even when it meant going against her brother. It had not come openly to that yet. Bedford fervently hoped it never would. But he was grateful for her loyalty and it was a joy to him to be able to talk freely to her. She could sometimes give him good advice for she knew the minds of the French; and she could always offer comfort.

So they left Paris and began the journey to the coast. As he was riding towards the town of Amiens a band of hostile men were waiting for him. They sprang out and attacked his followers – of whom there were not many; he was afraid for Anne and kept her close to him. However, the crowd were only armed with bill hooks – nasty weapons perhaps but not much use against skilled guards – and they were quickly dispersed; but it was a warning always to be on the alert and it brought home the truth that in spite of the fact that he had brought a certain prosperity to France he was still regarded as the usurper.

When he reached England he was greeted by the news that Philip of Burgundy had beaten Jacqueline’s forces and she herself was his prisoner.


* * *

Humphrey was feeling decidedly displeased with the manner in which life was going.

He was fast losing interest in Jacqueline. He wished he had never involved himself with her. He did congratulate himself, though, that he had left her in good time. It would have been disastrous if he had been there when Burgundy had marched in. What if the mighty Duke had captured him as well as Jacqueline! He had been wise to listen to Eleanor’s pleadings to return to England. It was the best step he could have taken in this sorry business. He had no time in his ambitious life for lost causes and he was beginning to believe that Jacqueline’s was that.

She had sent him urgent calls for help. But what could he do? She was in Burgundy’s hands now. It would need an army to go to her aid; and was the English Parliament going to grant him the means of raising that? Not likely.

What was occupying him now was his quarrel with his uncle Beaufort. Bastard uncle, he reminded Eleanor. Thinks himself as royal as I am. That was the trouble with these legitimised bastards. They could never forget that they were in truth bastards. It rankled. It made them want to assert themselves.