Baynard’s Castle, London, Summer 1429
Baynard’s Castle, London, Summer
NEWS FROM FRANCE is always bad these days, as if English luck is buried with King Henry. The rebel dauphin – brother to Queen Catherine – continues to deny that the crown is settled on our king, and gains more and more lands inside our borders.
‘I should be there!’ my lord says furiously. The duke and I, and his advisors Bolingbroke and Southwell, are in the muniments room looking at a map that shows the French advance.
‘Better that your brother takes the defeats and all the blame,’ I advise.
Roger Bolingbroke nods, but I can see he is thinking of something else; he is far away in his own complex thoughts.
‘Why has your brother Duke John not guarded against the rise of the dauphin? Lark. He employs such great astrologers and alchemists. He must be distracted by always coming home to England to correct and chastise you and favour your uncle the cardinal. He’s riding two horses when he can’t master one.You should let him fail in France, let him be defeated by the dauphin.You shine in contrast in England. ’
‘Our king has the right to the French crown,’ Bolingbroke remarks absently. ‘By the Treaty of Troyes . . .’
‘But his uncle Duke John does not enforce his right!’ I insist. ‘It is not my lord’s fault. My lord cannot risk everything to benefit a child not yet crowned.’
‘The French have a new advisor – she was foretold in the stars, a girl from nowhere, who has joined the dauphin. She will succeed at first and then fail,’ Bolingbroke predicts. ‘His Grace need do nothing but develop his authority here in England.’
‘We should crown him,’ Canon Southwell says suddenly.
‘Me?’ My husband’s first thought is always for himself; but he should not speak it aloud, even among our little council.
‘King Henry of course,’ I interrupt quickly, before he says another word of treason. ‘Crown the little king. Why now?’
‘Crown him in England as King of England and then crown him as King of France, in France,’ Dr Bolingbroke says.
‘That’s the best way to deny the dauphin.
Crown the true king of France in Paris and continue the fight against the false dauphin.
I was talking to his tutor, John Somerset – he says that the boy could cope with the long ceremony if he starts training him soon.
We should crown him – it’s the ideal time. ’
‘But once he’s crowned, I’m no longer protector,’ Humphrey complains. ‘I’ll be no more than other councillors. I’m not such a fool as to diminish myself!’
I know my compressed lips, holding in an irritated retort, have the same look as Roger Bolingbroke. We serve a lord who only thinks of himself today; and never thinks ahead as we do.
‘Let’s think this through,’ I invite him.
‘The king’s a little boy still, more like a baby than a seven-year-old.
He’d rather be a monk than a king. Crowned or not, he can’t take power; he has no authority.
As long as we have control of his mother, as long as his tutor Dr Somerset reports to us, we rule him and the country – as powerful as a regent if not in name.
His mother cannot marry without your consent; she’s practically your prisoner.
If we crown him now, while he’s still a child, we can get him into the habit of being a puppet king, with you behind the throne, holding the strings to his little hands and feet. ’
‘For his own good,’ my husband stipulates sentimentally.
I don’t look at Bolingbroke or Southwell. ‘Of course, for his own good, and for the good of the country,’ I say. ‘Our England.’