Westminster Palace, Spring 1434
Westminster Palace, Spring
THE PARLIAMENT OF the two dukes sits from summer to winter, and John, as older brother and – though no one ever says it in my hearing – the far better man, takes control of the privy council.
The young Duchess Jacquetta is granted English nationality, so she plants herself in her garden at Penshurst as an Englishwoman in English soil, and I pray every day in my chapel with Canon Southwell that she is a barren plant that fails to thrive and that the duke dies soon.
In spring, they give the little duchess the robes of the Order of the Garter, as if a child like her can understand the codes of honour and the rules of chivalry that bind us knights and ladies.
The Order is devalued by a child like her getting an honour that Countess Jacqueline was proud to have.
But everything feels devalued this spring, as if there is a reverse alchemy where all gold becomes black dust, and the aqua vitae is brackish brine.
Duke John persuades the parliament to grant the twelve-yearold king the right to rule without a protector.
He hopes the lords will rally around the child.
He says the boy is old enough to take his power, with two loving uncles to guide him; but I know that my husband will never serve a boy king, and his brother John will not live to see it.
His little duchess will be left childless and powerless. I will place her in marriage where I wish, somewhere far from England; I don’t want her at my court, with her stupid stories.