“Why?” I asked. “Why did they do such a thing?”

“Well, it was all due to the new King…the father of the present Henry. Richard was King and Henry’s father, who became King Henry IV, thought he would be a better king than Richard. My brother was loyal to Richard. If Richard had been victorious then, it would have been Henry IV who lost his head. My brother rose against Henry. He set himself at the head of a company of men and went to the Little Queen.”

I cried out: “My sister told me of this. They deceived her. They said that Richard was alive and free.”

“My brother believed it. That was why he was so confident. He had seen a man who was exactly like the King. It was a trick. However, my brother was captured and that is how his head came to be on London Bridge.”

Our conversation brought back to me those days when Isabelle had been with me and told me of her love for Richard.

I talked to her then of my childhood, of my sisters—Michelle who was now the Duchess of Burgundy, and Marie in her convent.

It was a great pleasure for me to have such a companion. It passed the days while I was waiting for the siege of Montereau to end. So the Duchess of Clarence, my new sister-in-law, became my friend.

The people of Montereau put up a strong resistance. They knew that outside their walls, fighting with the English, were the Burgundians led by Duke Philip. Montereau had been the scene of the murder of the late Duke Jean the Fearless and they guessed Burgundians would want their revenge. This knowledge doubtless strengthened their resistance.

It was inevitable, though, that in due course the town should fall to Henry.

Soldier that he was, he was not a violent man. He wanted victory not revenge. He killed only when it was necessary to do so, and if those who were conquered fell in with his wishes, he would be lenient with them. He made no effort to avoid the hardships his men endured and shared them with them. That was one of the qualities which made him the greatest soldier of his age and was the reason why his men were prepared to follow him anywhere.

Therefore there was no undue slaughter at Montereau.

He told me that Philip of Burgundy made a drama of the occasion. He called attention to his bereavement. With dramatic ardor he visited the place where his father had been buried in a pauper’s shell. He ordered that a pall should cover it and lighted candles be placed around it. He then took a solemn vow that he would dedicate his life to bringing his father’s murderers to justice. He would make it his unswerving duty to do so. And to this cause he would place his body, his soul and all he possessed.

“It was effective,” commented Henry. “But I believe his devotion to his father was slightly less intense during the latter’s lifetime. I believe he went so far as to curse his father for not allowing him to be present at Agincourt. Jean gave orders that his son was to be guarded and not allowed out. Philip made an attempt to escape and was restrained. I believe he thinks that, if he had not been prevented from being there, the result of the battle would have been different.”

I told him how pleased I was to have his brother’s wife, Margaret, with me and how we had become good friends.

“She is a good woman, and Clarence is a good man. I’ll confess that of all my brothers I love him best—though I suppose many would point out that Bedford is the more worthy. But one does not always love people for their worthiness. And Clarence…Thomas…has always been my special friend. I suppose it was partly because he was the nearest to me in age.”

“I think she is sad because she sees so little of him.”

“He is a soldier…like the rest of us.”

“Would it not be wonderful if these wars could be over!”

He laughed at me. I was not sure whether he agreed. I had seen the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of battle; and I knew that, tender and loving as he was to me, the real excitement in life for him was in conquest. I wondered what he would have been like if there had been no war to occupy him.

I had no opportunity of finding out.

No sooner was Montereau in his hands than we must move on to Melun.

I with my family and our attendants were housed not far from the camp.

Henry was thoughtful and kind to my parents; none would have believed that my father was the conquered king and Henry the conqueror. He was most anxious for my father’s comfort.

He said to me: “The house is far enough for your father not to hear the cannon. I am sure that would disturb him. And yet it is near enough for me to be able to ride to you now and then should the siege take longer than I expect. That was why I chose it.”

I was amazed at his concern. He had had musicians brought to the house in Melun, because he had heard that when my father became uneasy and showed signs of another lapse, he could be soothed by music.

When Melun fell, the next objective was Paris.

I wondered how I should feel, riding into our capital side by side with its conqueror. Henry was uneasy too; he thought there might be certain hostility, and for that reason he chose to go on in advance. He said he did not want to put me in any danger; and before I entered the city he must make sure that all would be well.

So it was with my mother beside me that I rode into Paris. I was amazed at our reception. Banners hung from the windows, wine was running from the conduits in the streets and the cheers were deafening.

I was relieved. They bore me no resentment for having joined the conqueror, and I knew that their greeting was not given out of fear but love for me.

So we spent Christmas in Paris and we were happy. Surely, I thought, this must be an end of hostilities. What more did he want? I was bold enough to ask him.

“France is mine,” he said, “and what pleases me most is that I have made my French Princess Queen of England. But you will learn, little one, that there is often as much strife in holding what one has gained as in taking possession of it. To have is important, but it must not be forgotten that one must hold.”

However, for that Christmas we gave ourselves up to pleasure. He could be as merry as any. We danced and sang; we played the harp together.

It was a wonderfully happy Christmas.

I might have known it could not last.

My friend Margaret, Duchess of Clarence, told me that the English were getting restive. They were not pleased that their King should desert them and spend so much of his time away from his own land. Conquests were all very well and when the conquering heroes returned they could be certain of a rapturous welcome, but Henry was first and foremost King of England, and that should not be forgotten.

Margaret said: “I heard news from England. Humphrey of Gloucester is Regent while the Duke of Bedford is in France and…well, it is not that the people do not like Humphrey…but he is not like Clarence or Bedford. He likes a little riotous living. He frequents the taverns. He is overfond of women. Mind you, he is full of energy and has great charm. He is something of a scholar, too. He is an odd mixture of a man. But…he is very ambitious. I have always fancied that he is a little envious of Henry…oh, full of admiration, of course, but in my opinion he is deeply discontented because he was born his father’s youngest son instead of his eldest.”

“He sounds a little…dangerous.”

Margaret lifted her shoulders. “One to be watched,” she suggested.

Margaret was right. Messengers came from England. There were letters for Henry, and he shut himself in with them for some little time.

It was not long after that that he talked to me. It was night, and we were alone. He put his arms around me and said: “How do you fancy a sea voyage?”

I looked at him in astonishment and he went on: “The Channel is not at its most inviting in the winter, but crossing it is a necessity, I fear.”

“You mean…England?”

He nodded. “And soon.”

Everything was “soon” in Henry’s mind. He could never brook delay. Once he had made up his mind, the deed was as good as done.

“I must return,” he said. “I have been away too long. When all is said and done, England is my first responsibility.”

“And France?”

“I am going to appoint your mother Regent.”

“My mother!”

“I think she is devoted to your interests.”

I looked at him in astonishment and he went on: “Because they are hers. Moreover, it will be in name only. My brother John will remain in France. He will be in charge of everything.”

“But my mother …”

“Kate,” he said solemnly, “conquerors are never popular with the conquered. They are treated with honor only because the alternative would be too painful. A conquered people should be treated with care. They have been deeply humiliated by the conquest. The wise conqueror lessens the humiliation wherever possible. So I shall call your mother Regent and my brother John will, of course, make sure all goes well for us.”

“You trust John?”

“Absolutely. I am fortunate in my brothers. Thomas…dear Thomas…and John…good John and…er…Humphrey …”

“Humphrey is now looking after affairs in England for you.”

“Humphrey is the youngest.” He smiled affectionately. “He can be a little wild. I understand that.”

“As you were once,” I said.

“As I was once. It helps me understand Humphrey. He is a little like me. He will grow out of it.”

“You grew out of it when you became King. Humphrey will not have a crown to change him.”

“I should have grown out of it in any case…as he will. But…at the moment I must go back. I know all will be well here in John’s hands and very soon we shall return to France.”

I was excited at the prospect of going to England. For one thing, I should escape from my mother. I should indeed feel a few regrets to part from my father; but I was young and wanted new experiences. I was fast falling in love with my husband and the new life he offered; and to be with my father was a continual sadness, for one could not help sharing something of his sorrows and therefore one’s happy exhilarating existence must be tinged with the sadness of his.

As I said, Henry could not endure delay. We were going to England; therefore we should set out at once. It was winter, but, to Henry, that was of little consequence. He would have preferred spring, of course; but this happened to be winter and that was when we should go.

The Duke of Bedford had arrived with 6,000 men to escort us to Calais.

I liked my brother-in-law, John, as soon as we met. He was more like Henry than any of the others, not so much in appearance as—I was to discover—in character. He was a clever man, but slightly less clever than Henry; he was shrewd, brave, clear-sighted and resourceful. But it seemed to me that with all these qualities he just slightly failed to equal Henry. I think, too, that he was clever enough to know this, and I liked him for that. Henry was his hero and he was content to serve under him.

Humphrey was clever, but the difference between him and John was that John realized his limitations in regard to Henry; Humphrey did not, and all through his life he would tell himself, I would have equaled my brother Henry. The only reason I did not is that I had the misfortune not to be born my father’s eldest son.

I felt I was beginning to know my new family, and the experience was agreeable. My friendship with the Duchess of Clarence was now to be repeated with the Duke of Bedford.

We reached Amiens, where I was lodged with the bailiff. Several of my countrymen and-women came to see me there. They brought me presents and wished me well. It was comforting to know that they still held me in high regard. In fact, I think many of them were delighted to be at peace and were grateful to me for helping bring that about. There is no greater destroyer of happiness than war, when lands are devastated by ruthless soldiery and cities destroyed. Oh yes, it was a great relief to these people that the war was largely at an end, and their Princess was happily married to Henry of England.

We embarked at Calais. I do not want to dwell on the discomforts…I might even say torments…of that strip of water which had to be crossed. It is best forgotten. Henry, of course, was unaffected; but that did not mean he had no sympathy for those who were not. My relief at sighting the white cliffs of my new country was intense.

As soon as we alighted we were greeted by crowds of cheering people, and this continued throughout the journey to London.