Richard had heard her called a harpy and a harlot and that the King was far gone in senility to let her govern him.

I should never allow her to behave like that if I were King, thought Richard.

If I were King! It was an intoxicating thought.

And the knowledge that the old King was going to die soon and the crown would be placed on his own golden head, set him tingling with anticipation.


* * *

Of all his enemies John of Gaunt realised that William of Wykeham was the greatest. William it was true had not confirmed the scandal about the Flemish woman’s baby; he had in fact declared that such a story had not started with him. But John would not forgive him. Wykeham’s fortunes had sunk very low now; his possessions had been confiscated but he could not be dismissed and sooner or later some of his Church cronies would rise and make trouble. He was not the sort of man who could be pushed aside and forgotten. The Church for one thing would not allow that.

The Church! A thorn in the side of any monarch … or would-be monarch!

If John ever ruled, one of the first things he would do would be to curb the power of the Church. Some of his ancestors had attempted it, the most outstanding case being that of Henry the Second and Thomas à Becket.

John had been impressed by the reformer John Wycliffe whom he had first met in Bruges. The man was a fanatic and John did not favour men of his kind; but they did share one important point of view: they both deplored the power of the Church, John Wycliffe because as he said there was only one Lord in Chief and that was God. The Pope behaved as though he were God’s Deputy on Earth and in fact a god himself. He possessed too much power and in Wycliffe’s opinion it should be curtailed.

John could agree whole-heartedly with this. He thought that power should be in the hands of the King and that there should be no authority over him. Kings went in fear of excommunication; the Pope had the power to harm them. That should not be.

It was for this reason that John of Gaunt was prepared to defend Wycliffe.

For some time Wycliffe had been fulminating against the Mendicant Friars, and had written a treatise against them. Their chief sin, according to him, was that they granted pardons which had to be bought with gifts to the Church.

‘There is no pardon,’ Wycliffe had thundered, ‘that does not come from God. Spiritual good begins and ends in charity. It may not be bought or sold, as chattering priests would say. He who is rich in charity will be best heard by God be he but a mere shepherd or a worker in the fields. There could be more holiness in such a man than in Mendicant Friars, whose worst abuse is that they pretend to purify those who confess. Will a man shrink from acts of licentiousness and fraud if he believes that soon after, by the aid of a little money bestowed on a friar, an entire absolution of the sin he has committed will be obtained? There is no greater heresy than for a man to believe that he is absolutely resolved from his sins if he gives money. Think not if you give a penny to a pardoner, you will be forgiven for breaking God’s commandments.

‘The indulgences of the Pope, if they are what they are said to be, are a manifest blasphemy. The friars give colour to this blasphemy by saying that Christ is omnipotent and that the Pope is his plenary Vicar, and so possesses in everything, the same power as Christ in his humanity.’

It was inevitable of course that a man who went about giving voice to such opinions should soon be called upon to give an account of himself, and it was shortly after the formal recognition of Richard as the true heir that Wycliffe was cited by William Courtenay, the Bishop of London, to answer respecting his opinions and teachings.

Wycliffe arrived in London to do this and John at once invited him to come to the Savoy Palace.

There he greeted him as a friend and told him that he agreed with his view that there was too much power in the hands of the Church and he, too, would like to see it curtailed.

‘You are to meet the Bishop of London and you should have no fear that you will not be able to withstand his questions. I know him well. He is a man who fears that his own power may shrink. I shall attend the meeting. Lord Percy the Earl Marshal will be present too. We shall show ourselves to be your friends before this Bishop who believes because he is the Bishop of London he has the power of a king.’

Wycliffe answered: ‘I shall not be afraid to answer the questions the Bishop puts to me, my lord. I shall speak my mind and God’s will be done.’

It was a cold February day when the meeting between John Wycliffe and the Bishop of London was to take place. News of the coming confrontation had spread through the City and the people were determined to witness it.

The narrow streets with their gabled houses almost meeting across the narrow road and so shutting out the light of day, were crowded with people making their way to the Cathedral. The Londoners seized on any chance to enliven their days. They would have been on the side of Wycliffe because he was clearly speaking for the people, but his patron it seemed was John of Gaunt, the man for whom they had little love. So their feelings were mixed as they crowded into the Cathedral.

Wycliffe was an impressive figure; he was of more than usual height and was simply clad in a dark robe belted at the waist and hanging to his feet. His flowing beard gave him a venerable air and the people were awed as they watched him.

At his right hand walked John of Gaunt, resplendent as always, in velvet and ermine to proclaim his royalty, a man to catch every eye, a man who must either be loved or hated; and there was no doubt which it was the people felt for him. They whispered together as they watched him. He was the man who was trying to steal the crown from that sweet innocent boy. He was the lecher who flaunted his mistress Catherine Swynford before their eyes, being seen with her on ceremonial occasions so brazenly while he deserted his poor wife whom he had married because she could become Queen of Castile; he was the base-born son of a Flemish woman – a serving wench; her station grew lower and lower as the weeks went by. He was the one who was passing himself off as the King’s son.

They hated John of Gaunt; and it was bewildering that he should be Wycliffe’s champion.

On the other side of Wycliffe was the Earl Marshal, Lord Percy, who had stepped into the role after John of Gaunt had rid himself of the Earl of March, because the wife of the Earl of March was the daughter of Lionel, that son of the King who was older than John of Gaunt and who had unfortunately died in Italy.

So great was the press of people in the Cathedral that Wycliffe with John of Gaunt and Lord Percy on either side of him found it difficult to make his way inside.

Lord Percy gave orders for his men to clear the crowd which they did with a certain amount of roughness. There were cries of protest as people were pushed aside and some fell and cursed the Marshal.

The mood of the people was growing sullen in a way which should have warned John of Gaunt and Percy had they given any thought to the matter.

They had forced their way through and were face to face with those who would hear the case, at the head of whom was William Courtenay, the Bishop of London.

Some might have been intimidated by the sight of John of Gaunt and the Earl Marshal standing on either side of John Wycliffe like guards come to fight his cause – not so William Courtenay. The Bishop was a man of strong principles; his intentions were good; he was kindly by nature; he was eager to do his duty; but there was a certain pride in him and he was very ready to resent what might be construed as a slight. As the fourth son of the Earl of Devon – and his mother was the daughter of the Earl of Hereford – he was highly born and did not intend any should forget it; he had had the inclination to go into the Church and in any case he was a fourth son; and because of his intellectual gifts it seemed very likely that he would rise high in his chosen profession.

The crowd pressed forward from all sides, determined after the rough treatment of the Marshal’s men not to be deprived of their rights. They were sure that it was going to be as good an entertainment as a mummers’ performance.

The Bishop first expressed his displeasure at the signs of rowdiness in his church. The Cathedral was open to all and people came to the holy place for refuge. He did not care to see them roughly treated in the house of God.

‘Had I known, Marshal,’ he said, ‘what masteries you would have brought into the church, I should have stopped you from coming hither.’

Lord Percy was aghast at the rebuke; but John of Gaunt cried angrily: ‘He shall keep such masteries though you say him nay.’

‘We will proceed into the lady chapel,’ said the Bishop ignoring the remark, ‘and there the examination shall proceed.’

The crowd pressed forward. They would not be kept out. Had they heard what their Bishop had said? This was their church and this was their city and they would have none try to take any of their privileges from them.

Percy, smarting from the altercation, looked round the lady chapel and said: ‘Wycliffe, sit down. You have many things to answer, and you need to repose yourself on a soft seat.’

The Bishop replied sharply: ‘It is not the custom for one so cited to be seated during his answers. He must and he shall stand.’

John of Gaunt’s temper burst out. He hated the Bishop; and all he stood for.

He cried in a loud voice so that all the people who were crowding round could hear: ‘Lord Percy’s request is not unreasonable. As for you, my lord Bishop, you have grown so proud and arrogant that I will no longer tolerate such conduct. I will put down the pride, not of you alone, but of all the prelacy in England.’

The Bishop had grown very pale. He replied in a firm voice: ‘Do your worst, sir.’

‘You … and your pride,’ cried the Duke, the Plantagenet temper now unrestrained. ‘You boast about your parentage. Let me tell you, they shall not be able to keep you when you are brought low. They will have enough to do to help themselves.’

‘I understand you not, my lord,’ said the Bishop coldly. ‘My confidence is not in my parents, nor in any man else, but only in God in whom I trust, and by whose assistance I shall be bold enough to speak the truth.’

John of Gaunt turned to the Marshal and said: ‘Rather than bear such things, I will drag this Bishop out of the church by his hair.’

Although he had said this to the Marshal he had spoken loudly enough for the people around him to have heard.

The shout went up. ‘John of Gaunt insults our Bishop. We will not have him dishonoured in his own church.’

They were calling to the people without. ‘Did you hear? John of Gaunt will drag our Bishop from his church by his hair. Come, friends. Stand together. We’ll die rather than submit to tyrants.’

Great was the tumult within and without the church and fearing violence the Bishop said quietly, ‘The people are in an angry mood. Follow me … quickly please. You must leave here at once.’

John of Gaunt, red with fury, hesitated. But he knew the anger of these people, how it quickly became dangerous. They hated him. And the few men they had with them could not stand against the mob.

There was only one thing to do and that was to forget their pride, follow the Bishop and leave the Cathedral by a side door.


* * *

After John of Gaunt and Lord Percy had slipped quietly away the people streamed into the streets. Tempers were running high but the Church was not the place in which they could give true vent to their feelings. Moreover, many of them were in agreement with John Wycliffe. For some time now there had been murmurings about the wealth and worldliness of men of the Church and that was the very thing Wycliffe was trying to stop. On the other hand John of Gaunt was hated and he was on the side of Wycliffe. John of Gaunt had threatened to abolish the mayoralty and set up a Captain to govern the City and that Captain would be selected by the Crown. They would never allow that. Moreover he had insulted the Bishop of London and that was tantamount to insulting London.

So they were confused and because of this they were uncertain how to attack.

John went back to the Savoy Palace. Catherine had already heard that there had been trouble in St Paul’s and was very worried.