Passage to Pontefract (50 page)

It was all very mysterious. But not to Richard. There had been five knights who had come against him and this would mark his vengeance on them all. Hereford had given him the opportunity when he had made his complaints against Norfolk.

Fifteen days in which to settle affairs and leave the country!

It was a drastic sentence and clearly showed the spite in Richard’s nature.

He did not wish to see either of them again, he said. Let them look to their affairs and be gone.

Hereford rode to Leicester Castle to see his father. John of Gaunt had aged considerably. When he had heard the news he could scarcely believe it. His son, Henry, who was the hope of the Lancastrian cause, to be sent into exile! There could not have been a greater blow.

He embraced him with great sorrow.

‘My son,’ he cried, ‘what does this mean?’

‘It’s Richard’s revenge,’ said Henry. ‘He has never really forgiven me.’

‘But because of that stupid affair … I blame myself for advising you to go to him.’

‘It was the only thing. Norfolk was up to some trick I know. He was trying to destroy me.’

John nodded. Henry was wise and he was dedicated to one purpose. He wanted the crown as John had once wanted it; but Henry was more subtle than his father. He worked with more caution and with a more ruthless determination.

‘’Tis done,’ said John. ‘We must make the best of it. One thing we must make certain of. When I die my estates must not be forfeited to the crown but must go where they belong … to you.’

‘I pray you do not talk of death.’

‘Sometimes I feel it close. Do not mention this to Catherine. She watches over me like a mother with an ailing child. I would not have her distressed.’

‘You have many years left to you.’

‘My son, you say what you think I should like to hear. It may be that I shall not die for years but we must make my estates secure. Richard must swear that they shall not be forfeit to the crown, for if you are not here to claim them and are still living in banishment he could take them.’

‘Do you think he will agree?’

‘He is going to agree,’ said John. ‘Before you leave, you and I shall visit him.’

‘Do you think he will see me? He has told me to leave in fifteen days. Two of them have already passed.’

‘He will see me and you will be with me,’ said John with a flash of his old spirit. ‘Never fear, he will grant this. I shall see to it. His position is not such a happy one as he could wish. The people have great regard for you, Henry, and for young Harry too. That boy has a way of winning hearts.’

‘The King is never seen without his bodyguard of Cheshire archers. It seems as though he fears attack.’

‘It is unwise of him for they do not make the people love him. They have an evil reputation, those archers. They behave as if they are at war. They are like soldiers pillaging the enemy’s towns and villages as they march through our own. But these are the King’s own subjects. They rape and murder and are not brought to account. The King will not be loved for his archers.’

‘Richard is a fool, Father. One of these days he will be brought face to face with his folly.’ Henry’s eyes glowed with determination as he said that.

‘Take care, my son,’ warned John of Gaunt. ‘Do nothing until you are ready. Await the opportunity.’

‘Aye,’ said Henry. ‘You must trust me to do that.’

‘And what of the children?’

‘I want you and Catherine to take the three eldest.’

‘Indeed we shall. Harry is at Court, is he not?’

‘Yes, I have sent for him,’ said Henry, ‘but he has not yet come.’

John looked grave. ‘We must see the King,’ he said. ‘And what of Humphrey and the girls?’

‘My friend, Hugh Waterton, is taking them. He will care for them and I have asked that they attend Mass each day to pray for the repose of their mother’s soul.’

Catherine joined them. Her beautiful eyes were uneasy; she knew how upset John was at the banishment of his son; and she feared that Henry might make trouble while he was on the Continent and that John would become embroiled in it.

But she was happy at the prospect of having his grandsons in her care. She liked the boys, particularly Harry who was the brightest of them all. She was also relieved that John was getting older and no longer felt the inclination to take an active part in the troubles of the kingdom.

She was apprehensive though when John said he was going to accompany Henry to Eltham to see the King.

‘For what purpose?’ she asked.

He explained about the necessity to get the King’s agreement regarding his estates. She was depressed, for she knew that the question of the estates would only arise on John’s death.

‘He’ll be back long before there is any problem about the estates,’ she said rather angrily.

John pressed her hand and said no more on the subject; but when Henry rode out he went with him.

Richard received them at Eltham Palace. He could hardly turn his uncle away, particularly as John had supported him and had been for some time reckoned as his principal adviser.

‘This is a sorry matter,’ said John. ‘And one it is hard to understand.’

‘It is clear to me,’ replied Richard shortly; and John saw that it would be unwise to anger him.

‘I am saying farewell to my son,’ said John.

‘His time here is growing short,’ replied Richard coldly.

‘And there are one or two points which I want to clear up before he goes. I am sure you will understand my concern, for you will wish to be just to your cousin and to me.’

‘It is always my desire to administer justice,’ retorted Richard.

‘Then, my lord, I want your undertaking that in the event of my dying during my son’s absence, my estates will pass to him and not be forfeited to the Crown.’

Richard waved his hand. ‘That request is granted,’ he said. Then he added: ‘Why Uncle, you have many years left to you.’

‘So I trust,’ answered John of Gaunt.

‘My father will care for my elder sons,’ said Henry. ‘Thomas and John are on their way to Leicester now. He will take Harry back with him.’

Richard shook his head and regarded his cousin coolly.

‘Nay, nay,’ he said. ‘Not young Harry. I have grown fond of the lad.’

John saw the stricken look in his son’s eyes.

‘My lord, his place is with his grandfather. He will be his guardian during my absence.’

‘I have decided to be his guardian … for a while,’ said the King.

‘You mean …’

Richard was smiling gently. ‘I mean, cousin, that I love the boy so well that I would have him at Court. He shall have his duties there and you need have no fear for him.’

He was making his meaning clear. No, Richard did not trust his cousin. He was holding young Harry of Monmouth as a hostage for his father’s good behaviour.

There was nothing more to be said. Henry took his farewell of the King and his father rode with him to the coast.

‘You see what this means,’ said Henry. ‘Harry is to be a hostage.’

‘Richard grows wily … at last,’ answered his father. ‘You will have to be careful, Henry.’

‘I intend to take the greatest care,’ was the answer.

‘At least we made him swear that my estates shall not be forfeited to the Crown; and that was what we came to do.’

‘And to take Harry away.’

‘Do not fret about Harry. I tell you this, there is a boy who will know how to take care of himself.’

Henry agreed with that.

At the coast he and his father took a sad farewell of each other and Henry set sail for banishment and France.

The loss of his eldest son whom he had looked on as the hope of the house of Lancaster had a marked effect on John of Gaunt. Richard had, out of compassion to him, shortened the length of exile from ten to six years. But six years! mourned John. Shall I ever see my son again?

He loved his children, all of them. His Beaufort boys as he called them delighted him because they had a look of Catherine; but Henry his first-born son, his heir, royal Henry, had been the one on whom all his hopes were fixed.

Richard was a failure. He had seen that for a long time. Richard was feckless and extravagant. He cared far too much for fine clothes and lavish displays. He gathered the wrong people about him. He had a talent for taking the wrong action – for instance marrying a child who could not be a wife to him for years. Was ever such a piece of folly committed by a King who needed an heir?

Richard’s power could not last. He could see that as clearly as he could see anything. Richard would go. And Henry was in exile.

This was particularly significant at this time because news had come from Ireland that Roger de Mortimer, Earl of March and Richard’s heir, had been slain in the fighting at Kells.

The crown was perilously in danger of falling from Richard’s head. And who should wear it next?

If only Henry were here! Henry should take the crown. Life was ironical. How he, John of Gaunt, had yearned for that very crown; and it had been denied him, although he had found crowns for his daughters and it might have been that the most coveted of all could have gone to his son.

Life was bitter. Henry at this moment – this significant, this most fateful moment – was in exile.

He brooded a great deal on Henry’s exile. He thought of young Harry whom the King kept at his side. Catherine busied herself with the others – delighted to have children to care for again. She was watchful of him but she was growing more and more anxious every day.

There came a time when John took to his bed and Catherine knew that he must indeed be falling ill to agree to do this. He lay there, his eyes closed, and Catherine was filled with a terrible fear.

He made her sit beside him and took her hand.

‘These have been happy years,’ he said, ‘these we have had together.’

‘There are many left to us,’ she said firmly.

He smiled at her. ‘It is not like you to hide your face from the truth, Catherine,’ he said.

‘You are not going to die. You are too great a man to die.’

‘And where is the logic in that? Greatness has nothing to do with death. One thing is certain – I shall die. As for my greatness that is not such a certainty. I have failed so often, Catherine.’

‘We have been happy,’ she reminded him. ‘You have just said so. To achieve happiness … is that not what we all seek, and to achieve it … that is the true success.’