The King looked at the Queen and from the Queen to Robert. Anne had turned pale; there was real anguish in her face. Robert’s expression was enigmatical.

‘It was necessary to question him,’ said Holland. ‘He was a stubborn man.’

The King turned away and put his hand over his eyes, and Anne signed to Holland to leave them.

Sir John bowed and retired. He himself was a little uneasy. The torture administered under his direction had been savage.

When the body of the friar was examined and it was realised what had been done to him the King was overcome with horror. So was John of Gaunt. Neither Richard nor his uncle believed in that sort of torture. If men were against them they were all for the quick stroke of the sword or the axe but not that obscene and filthy torture which had been carried out on this man.

Richard wept and the Queen sent everyone away that she might comfort him as she believed only she could. Richard lay on his bed and she sat beside him stroking his hair.

‘’Tis done, ’tis done,’ she said. ‘There is nothing we can do now to change it. We should never have allowed your half-brother to have care of him.’

She had already discovered that there was great cruelty in John Holland.

‘And to what avail!’ cried Richard. ‘What did we discover? Nothing.’

She tried to soothe him. She was beginning to learn a great deal not only about the men who surrounded her husband but of Richard himself.

He was weak. That she had to accept. He was not the golden god she had believed him to be when he had welcomed her to England and she had been overawed by his beauty. He needed her. She realised that more each day. He leaned on her. It was for her to protect him. And she loved him more deeply for his weakness.


* * *

Thomas of Woodstock came riding to Salisbury. News of the friar’s outburst and his accusation against John of Gaunt had reached him.

Unceremoniously he burst into the King’s chamber.

Thomas’s eyes were wild as he took his sword from its sheath and brandished it before the King. Those about Richard closed in on him and Thomas cried: ‘Who dares accuse my brother of treason, eh? Tell me this. Let that man stand forth and I will challenge him. Yea,’ his wild eyes were fixed on Richard. ‘No matter who he be. I will run him through.’

Richard was astounded. That anyone should dare speak thus of him in his presence was an insult. It was something he had never expected could be possible, even from this uncle who had always treated him as though he were a boy.

He opened his mouth to speak but he had always been a little in awe of Thomas of Woodstock. During his boyhood this big uncle had often lectured him on what he should do, and somehow the sight of him, red-faced, his eyes bulging, his sword in his hand, intimidated the King.

De Vere said: ‘My lord Buckingham, this matter is over. The friar is dead. None of his accusations have been proved. The matter is at an end.’

‘It is not at an end my lord if calumnies are spread about my brother. And if they continue to be I shall be at hand to defend his good name.

Woodstock bowed and left the chamber.

Everyone who had witnessed the strange scene was astounded. The brothers had not been on such good terms. Buckingham still resented the fact that Lancaster had married his son Henry to the co-heiress of the Bohun estates.

Why then was he so concerned with his brother’s reputation?

There was one construction to be put on it and Richard declared to Robert de Vere and Anne that he knew what it was.

‘He loves to humiliate me. That is his motive. He wants to make me feel that I have not yet grown up and he wants to make other people believe it. I shall not forget this in a hurry,’ he added. ‘A plague on these uncles.’


* * *

The people of Salisbury were not going to allow the friar Latemar to be forgotten in a hurry either.

It was not long before he became a martyr.

One man came running through the streets shouting: ‘I can see. I who was blind can see.’

What had happened? Crowds gathered round him.

‘I touched the crate on which he was dragged through the streets. Leaves had begun to sprout from it. I touched them and lo, I could see.’

It was like touching the hem of the holy garment.

After that there was a crop of miracles. Lights were said to shine over the friar’s grave. There was constant talk of the astonishing cures which were performed there. No, the friar was not going to be forgotten.

And if he was a martyr, which the miracles proved he was, then John of Gaunt was in truth plotting to murder the King, for martyrs always spoke the truth.

Robert de Vere was very much aware of the feeling which had been raised against John of Gaunt. Of course he himself was equally unpopular. Favourites always were. He was surrounded by envy, simply because he knew how to amuse the King and delight him with his company.

Richard doted on him and could deny him nothing. Robert must be watchful of Anne of course; but Anne was a wise woman; she loved the King and was in fact loved by him. She had to accept Robert and she did so with a very good grace. Just as, thought Robert slyly, he accepted her.

Richard and he were friends, devoted friends, but they had their wives of course and both of them understood this friendship which made for a harmonious household.

Richard could not do enough for Robert. When he had told him that he and Philippa could not really manage on their income, the King had laughed. He could remedy that. He could not allow his dear Robert to be poor. Robert was very soon the possessor of the town and castle of Colchester. He was also a member of the privy council and a knight of the Garter. Of course they were jealous of him. Robert expected jealousy from other nobles. But he had to be watchful in higher quarters.

The King’s uncles did not like him. He had long been aware of John of Gaunt’s antipathy; now of course he had that of Thomas of Woodstock. When he had raged into the King’s chamber brandishing his sword he had, it was true, been brandishing it at Richard, but he was sending more than the occasional glance in Robert’s direction too.

It was unfortunate that the plot against John of Gaunt had failed. The friar was an innocent man who had been trapped into being the betrayer of the ‘plot’. He had been a simple man and it had been easy to play subtly on his incredulity. Robert had banked on Richard’s losing his temper and acting on impulse as he so often did. Then John of Gaunt would have been taken away and executed before enquiries were made. It had happened like that more than once.

But here he was with a failed plot and yet not entirely failed. Not while the miracles continued and they must make sure that there was no falling off of those for while they persisted feeling ran high against John of Gaunt.

Thomas Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham, another favourite of the King’s though none could compare with Robert of course, was equally eager to be rid of John of Gaunt. Nor were they the only ones. They had their supporters.

He discussed the matter with Mowbray. ‘This time,’ he said, ‘we must make sure of our man. We have agreed that it will not be difficult to get him arrested and accused. Feeling is running high. People really do believe in those miracles. He shall be summoned to a meeting of the Council at Waltham and there accused. This time he shall stand trial.’

‘And you think judges would dare convict him?’

‘My dear Mowbray, judges we shall choose will. They will be as anxious to see the end of him as we are.’

‘And Richard?’ asked Mowbray.

‘Leave Richard to me.’

‘He will be present, you know.’

‘My dear fellow, I know how to play on Richard’s fears. He is already half convinced that he should have listened to the friar. He has nightmares, dreams of the tortures. He has a very delicate mind, our King. He does not like to contemplate torture, even that of men who would be plotting against him. A nice quick stroke of the sword or the axe, that is Richard’s idea of despatching his enemies. He is very suspicious of Uncle John and of Uncle Thomas. Thomas rushing in like that and flourishing his sword was playing right into our hands. Rest assured, my dear Nottingham, that this time it will be the end of John of Gaunt.’

Robert was right. It was easy to convince Richard. ‘There are rumours,’ he whispered to him. ‘It is said that there was a plot and that John of Gaunt cleverly extricated himself as he has done so often before.’

‘There are times when I could bring myself to believe that,’ said Richard.

‘There was another miracle at the friar’s tomb yesterday,’ went on Robert. ‘My lord if treason were proved against John of Gaunt you would not hesitate …’

‘Whoever commits treason must pay the penalty,’ answered Richard firmly.


* * *

That there was some plot afoot was obvious to all who surrounded the King; and that Robert de Vere was at the heart of it seemed more than likely.

One man who was particularly suspicious was Michael de la Pole. He had become Chancellor and the King could not help being impressed by his management of affairs, for he had decreased Court expenditure considerably. His enemies had tried to bring charges of peculation against him but he had been able to rebut them. It was an absurd charge which had been brought against him. A fishmonger had accused him of taking a bribe when he, the fishmonger, was coming up for trial. This fishmonger, a certain John Cavendish, declared that he had been told that if he paid forty pounds to the Chancellor he would get judgement in his favour. Lacking the money the fishmonger declared he had sent a present of fish, but Michael de la Pole was able to prove that he had paid for the fish and the fishmonger was condemned for defamation of character.

De la Pole was very well aware how a man’s enemies could take a trivial incident, distort it and bring it against him.

He was now suspicious at the emphasis which was being placed on the so-called miracles and he guessed this meant a plot against John of Gaunt.

De la Pole was a patriotic man, and what he wanted was to bring about peace with France, for England needed peace not only beyond the seas but in England and while there was strife between the King and his uncles this could never be. Moreover it was a danger. The uncles were powerful men. It was true that John of Gaunt had distinguished himself rather by failure than success; but he was a man who must be regarded with respect. Edmund of Langley was of a milder disposition but it was very likely that he would stand with his brothers rather than his nephew; as for Thomas of Woodstock, there was a choleric man, a man ready to act rashly without fear of the consequences.

But de la Pole did fear the consequences, not only for himself but for England.

John of Gaunt was by no means loved by the people. In fact there was not a more unpopular man in the country – unless it was Robert de Vere. Even so if he were murdered doubtless he would become a martyr.

This plot must not be allowed to reach fruition.


* * *

At Hertford John of Gaunt received the summons to attend the Council.

He stood in the great hall with the letter in his hand, long after the messengers had retired to the kitchens to be refreshed.

Catherine found him there, and noticed at once that something was wrong. Their affection had not waned with the passing of the years. She was installed here in his house as the one who meant a great deal to him. He needed Catherine and she knew it and revelled in the knowledge.

Hers was a beauty which did not diminish with age. It was true that it had changed; and instead of the flames of passion which had flared between them in their youth there now burned a steady light which was more important to him than anything else.

It astonished him more than it astonished her.

He was to her her lover and her child. She often marvelled to think of this great man and herself. Who was she, the daughter of a humble man who had managed to get a knighthood on a battlefield, the widow of another knight, a simple country woman, to be the companion of the great John of Gaunt? But such was love, and theirs was enduring.