Eltham Palace, Winter 1425 #2
AT brEAKFAST SERVED in the great hall, I learn from the queen’s ladies what has taken Owen away.
It was the queen’s command, of course. She is frightened by reports of an armed struggle, almost a civil war, between the households of the king’s great-uncle, Bishop Beaufort, and his uncle, Duke Humphrey, and she has sent Owen to get news that she can trust. They say that the bishop marched his private army behind the walls of his great house at Southwark and is arming to take London Bridge and occupy the City of London.
Duke Humphrey warned the queen that he is raising London’s defence and that she must stay at Eltham Palace and keep the king safe from the bishop, who is planning to seize the child and declare himself protector.
The queen comes from the French royal family, who are always at war with themselves, and she collapses terror-struck, unable to sit or work at her loom, walking up and down from one window to another, watching for Owen ap Maredudd’s return with news of what is happening in London.
It is a long anxious day till we hear the clatter of hooves coming up the hill.
She cannot bear to wait for Owen to change his clothes to be fit for the royal privy chamber.
She runs like a common woman through the presence chamber and down the stairs to the stable-yard as he is jumping down from his horse.
We ladies dash to the gallery overlooking the yard and crane our heads, so that we can see the queen run towards him.
At once, his arms open, and he holds her tenderly as she cries against his chest. We see him pat her back, soothing her with quiet words of reassurance.
She clings to him as she looks up, demanding answers, her eyes searching his face.
Again, he repeats his words quietly, and she rests her fair head against his shoulder.
It’s an extraordinary display of her trust in him, an excessive reli-ance for a queen on a servant – but natural for a young widow in a country that is at war over her baby son.
She has to cling to someone, and Owen is the only man she can trust: he serves her and her son for themselves, not as a step to greater power.
He is the only man who has stayed with her, and not moved to the two great rivals: the bishop or the duke.
He is the only man who has not left her for more interesting service with a greater man.
I may know he is playing a long game, seeking power through her son; but she believes he is devoted to her.
After a few moments, she steps back, and he releases her at once and bows, as if to show that his obedience is unchanged.
For a moment, in her anxiety as a mother, she forgot she was a queen; but his low bow shows that he never forgets.
She turns from him, and he follows her, a few strides behind her, into the privy chamber, his hat in his hand.
We all scuttle back to our places, and I hide a smile to think how everyone admires him; the queen clings to him as her only friend, but only I know that he is my lover.
She comes in laughing. ‘I know you were all spying on me!’ she says. ‘My dear ap Maredudd tells me that we are safe here and London is at peace, and I am so relieved. You can tell them.’ She makes a little wave of her hand and Owen bows.
‘Nothing much to tell now,’ he says, determinedly reassuring.
‘His Grace is safe here, and so are you all. It was unpleasant at the time, but it’s over now.
Bishop Beaufort had brought his company of archers to his palace at Southwark and Duke Humphrey, hearing of it, thought he meant to seize London.
All the apprentice boys and the City fathers, and even the lord mayor himself, went onto London Bridge and took up the drawbridge and defied the bishop’s men to cross.
It’s an evil day that sees you Englishmen so divided.
But they’ve all withdrawn now, and Henry Chichele the Archbishop of Canterbury is going from one side of the river to the other with a visiting prince from Portugal to make peace. ’
‘And there will be peace?’ I confirm – to make him look at me, not because I care a farthing one way or the other.
‘There will be peace,’ he says gently, with a courteous nod to me. ‘But I am very glad you were here at Eltham and not at Westminster.’ He speaks to the queen, but I know the warmth in his voice is for me. ‘Safely at a distance, and His Grace the king safe too.’
I AM NOT jealous of my lover’s devotion to the queen.
His fortune – which will be mine – will be made from her favour.
There is nothing more than a loyal fealty on his side and an occasional outburst of emotion on hers.
She has no real interest in any man – except perhaps a sneaking attraction to Edmund Beaufort, who arrives at Eltham Palace the very next day, full of explanations and excuses for his uncle.
She gives him a frosty welcome; her son the king is everything to her, and she believed Owen when he told her that the bishop was the first to arm his men.
But Edmund is persuasive and apologetic, and according to him, there was never any intention to invade London but just a normal visit.
Within an hour, she is chatting to him, and half an hour after that, he is walking with her in the gardens of the palace with her hand in the crook of his arm, and she is laughing at his flirtation.
Duke Humphrey, who is the saviour of London, comes to Eltham the day after, riding with his guard, and his standards flying like a man who has won a great battle.
All the ladies are at the gallery windows again to watch him ride in – handsome and confident and victorious.
When he comes into the privy chamber the queen stands to honour him, the knight who saved her son from the destruction of his inheritance.
Duke Humphrey kneels before her and she puts one hand on his shoulder and smiles down into his face.
It is an extraordinary gesture from a queen for an extraordinary act of loyalty.