Georgette Heyer (43 page)

But Richard, who lived in princely state, kept servants far too well trained to make this jape possible. Minutes before Harry could tell him to forbear, the porter had recognised royal liveries approaching, and had sent a page flying with the news. The page panted it to an usher, and the usher nipped across to the Marshal of the Hall with it, and by the time the princes were half-way across the inner bailey my lord himself had reached the door, and was coming to meet them, with a cloud of men in his livery at his heels. He was not in the least discomposed; nor were the officials of his household. Within the Hall, the Marshal cast a competent eye over the new dispositions at the high table which the grooms and ushers were swiftly making under the direction of the butler; and the only person to be flustered was my lord’s Countess, who was shy of company. She was inclined to be sickly, too; and, so far, the only living outcome of her union with Warwick was a brace of maid-children, which made her feel herself to be despisable. However, if she must entertain unbidden guests, she had liefer by far that these should be the King’s sons than certain of the noble ladies of her acquaintance. The princes were unlikely to look at her with eyes of galling pity; and she hoped they wouldn’t notice that she was wearing her second-best robe.

Misgivings about her attire soon vanished: the princes were wearing leather jerkins and buskins, for which Harry, raising her from a deep curtsy, and kissing her hand, begged her pardon. They were all plainly in holiday humour; and she could see, by the wry smile on my lord’s face, that, as usual, he was the victim of their unsparing tongues. The Lord John, it seemed, was complaining that when he appeared before the Council, Richard had scantly deigned to recognise him; and the Lord Thomas was explaining, in an audible aside, that ever since he had become a member of the Council Richard had grown too stomachy to recognise any of them but Harry. The Countess’s eyes went apprehensively to her lord’s face, for although he was a kind husband, she stood in some awe of him, and was always afraid, when the princes made him their bobbing-block, that he might take displeasure. Heaven grant that my lord’s new fool, catching the infection of the princes’ merriness, should not be emboldened to utter any perilous japes!

But my lord’s fool was far too ware to run the risk of a whipping, or worse, by saying one word that could be thought to bear on the King’s infirmity, or the Archbishop’s quarrel with Dean Courtenay. His predecessor had been sent packing for making quite a mild sally about young cockerels and old cocks, and was now reduced to a wayfaring life, travelling about the country from fair to fair with a tumbling girl. Fortunately, the garboils in France provided plenty of good stuff for japes, which were certain to please. You might even venture so far as to mime the antics of a mad king without seeing the countenances of the royal guests stiffen ominously. Heartened by the Lord Thomas’s first shout of laughter, the fool excelled himself, won largesse from the princes, and an approving nod from his lord, and retired triumphant. It had been his first attempt, in my lord’s household, to amuse guests of high rank, and he felt that he was now reasonably assured of permanent employment.

5

It was on their ride home from Warwick that Harry, ranging alongside John’s stout hackney, told John that he wanted a lasting truce with Scotland.

‘How lasting?’ demanded John.

‘At the least, two years, and for as many more as you and Ralph can contrive. Could you bring it about?’

‘Perhaps – at a price. It wouldn’t give us peace on the Border. There would be raiding still, and Albany would declare he had had no tokening of such outlawry.’

‘That, possibly, but it would take from us the threat of invasion in force.’

‘It might do that,’ John agreed.

‘A settled truce would be speedful,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve talked with Father about the French business, and I found him apt. If Burgundy makes us offers, I – we – must have peace on the Border – or what passes for peace there. He will do that, I think. The mettle of Orleans has grown apace since Armagnac took on himself the charge of his affairs, and all the tidings we’ve received out of France show the Fearless to be hard bested. Armagnac has Germans and Gascons in his pay now. Burgundy must soon look about him for allies, and what other way should he look but this?’

So when John journeyed north again, in the spring, it was with instructions to negotiate a long truce. But before he left London, Sir Robert Umfraville, acting as lieutenant for the Admiral of the North, and taking advantage of the expiration of the truce, had put to sea with six vessels, which carried, besides their crews, a small force of men-at-arms and archers, and had sailed boldly up the Forth, doing great scathe. The Scots were taken unawares, for it was by no means the season for expeditions by sea, and before a sufficient number of ships of war could be sent to engage his tiny fleet, he was away, with thirteen captured vessels crammed with every sort of merchandise, from wheat to wines and spices. He brought this rich booty home to his enfamined countrymen, winning great worship. He had seen a good deal of fighting, for the Scots had put out in cogs and barges to try to drive him off almost every day, and he had sustained some losses; but he had cruised in the Forth for no fewer than fourteen days. It seemed incredible that he could have done it, and returned with such prizes, but no one who knew him doubted the tale. He was always ready to lead what other men thought foolhardy ventures, and he was amazingly fortunate. Four years earlier, he had swept across the Border in a retaliatory raid, and had burnt the town of Peebles. That had been in revenge for Berwick, and it had earned him a new name. He had descended on the town on market-day, and the Scots had called him ever since Robin Mendmarket.

Harry feared that his latest exploit might prejudice the chances of negotiating a lasting truce, but John believed it would rather facilitate his work: it would certainly take from the Scots some of their bobance.

So it proved. John was busy throughout April and May, arranging, with Ralph Neville, the preliminaries, and by the end of May matters were far enough advanced for a Commission to be appointed to treat with the Scottish Earls of March and Douglas at Handenstank.

It was headed by Warwick, Westmoreland, and Bishop Langley of Durham; and if nothing very definite was agreed to, at least the Scots showed themselves willing to treat. Warwick, instructed by Harry, wanted to push matters on to a conclusion, but Westmoreland, wiser in Border customs, prophesied that the –

[
Here Georgette Heyer’s manuscript breaks off. For those interested in the subsequent careers of her characters a historical note is appended.
]

Historical Note

Henry IV died in March 1413, and for the remaining months of his father’s reign, John remained in the North, keeping peace in the East Marches and fortifying Berwick.

Shortly after the accession of Harry, who thus became Henry V, John was created Duke of Bedford, and in September 1414 he resigned his wardenship. He had a seat on his brother’s Council, where he supported Henry’s policy of an alliance with Burgundy – as opposed to Humfrey and Thomas (now Dukes of Gloucester and Clarence) who favoured the Orleanist faction in France.

When Henry invaded France in 1415, claiming the French crown for himself, Bedford remained in England as lieutenant of the kingdom. After the success of Henry’s Agincourt campaign (where Edward of York died, smothered in his own armour), Bedford led a successful naval expedition to relieve Harfleur, and in 1417, when he was again lieutenant of England in his brother’s absence, he and Sir Thomas Beaufort (now Duke of Exeter) successfully repelled a Scots invasion.

Thomas of Clarence had fought in France with his brother, where he had gained the reputation of a brave but rash captain. In March 1421, when he led a small English contingent against a much larger French force at Baugé, he and most of his men were killed.

Henry V had married Catherine, the daughter of the mad King Charles VI of France, and Bedford stood as godfather to their son, also named Henry. He escorted the Queen to France in 1422 to join her husband, and when Henry V fell ill he took command of the English army there. Henry died on August 31st, naming Bedford guardian of England and the young king, Henry VI, and he also became Regent of France when Philip of Burgundy, son of John the Fearless, declined that office.

Bedford’s responsibilities were now enormous. He was faced with prosecuting the war in France, where he proved himself an able and prudent general, and in his administration of the British possessions there – Normandy, Maine and Guienne – he tried to give good government and to restore prosperity and order. The key to his policy was the Burgundian alliance, and he found this endangered when Humfrey of Gloucester, who filled his place in England during his absence, married a kinswoman of Burgundy, Jacqueline of Hainault, and claimed her lands – lands which Philip of Burgundy had hoped to gain for himself.

Humfrey of Gloucester proved himself a selfish and faithless character in public life, constantly intriguing for his own ends and stirring up faction whenever Bedford was not there. His title ‘The Good Duke’ depends only on his literary interests. His irresponsible behaviour contributed greatly to Bedford’s difficulties.

However, the alliance with Burgundy was strengthened by Bedford’s marriage in 1423 to the Duke’s eighteen-year-old sister, Anne, described by a chronicler of the time as ‘bonne et belle’. The Duke and Duchess of Bedford held their court at Paris in considerable state, and Anne also accompanied her husband on his journeys and campaigns, returning with him to England in 1426, where he acted as peacemaker in a quarrel between Humfrey of Gloucester and Bishop Henry Beaufort.

Meanwhile, King Charles VI of France had died, his son, Charles VII, was as yet uncrowned, and French fortunes were at a low ebb. In 1424 Bedford had won a great victory at Verneuil over a far larger French army supported by a Scottish contingent. The enemy losses were enormous. The Armagnac army was completely routed and their Scottish allies, led by the Earl of Douglas, were annihilated. The French called it a second Agincourt. In 1429 the English were besieging Orleans, but then the tide turned. Jeanne d’Arc persuaded the Dauphin that under divine guidance she could lead French troops to victory, and in April 1429 she relieved Orleans, and in July Charles was crowned at Rheims. Jeanne d’Arc then advanced on Paris, but turned away from battle with Bedford, who had gathered together troops to bar her way. Normandy wavered in its allegiance to the English and Philip of Burgundy made a truce with Charles at Compiègne. Bedford reacted swiftly: he resigned the regency in Paris to Burgundy, and thus regained his support, and set off to campaign in Normandy.

Jeanne d’Arc had failed to storm Paris in September and in May 1430 she was captured by John of Luxembourg, an ally of Burgundy’s. He sold her to the English through Pierre Cauchon, the Bishop of Beauvais, who claimed her as a heretic caught in his diocese. The Church, rather than Bedford himself, directed her trial as a sorceress and heretic, and she was burnt at Rouen in May 1431.

In 1432 the English lost Chartres, and later that year Bedford’s duchess, Anne, died, to the grief of her husband and his Burgundian allies. The following year, when campaigning in the region of Calais, Bedford allied himself to the powerful Count of St Pol by marrying his daughter Jacqueline of Luxembourg. However, he had done this without consulting the Count’s overlord, Burgundy, and the rift between Philip and himself, weakened already by Anne’s death, widened.

Bedford returned to England to justify his conduct of the war before Parliament, and to help the finances of the realm he offered to take only £1,000 as his salary as Chief Counsellor – in the same position Humfrey of Gloucester had taken £5,000. In June 1434 he returned to France for the last time. His vigorous prosecution of the war helped the English and Burgundians to gain much ground, but he was forced to agree to Burgundy’s request to send ambassadors to a council held at Arras the following year to discuss peace. Unable to agree to the French terms, the English ambassadors finally quitted the council, leaving Burgundy to ally himself to Charles VII.

The cause for which Bedford had laboured so long was ruined, and he himself died a few days later, on 14th September 1435, at Rouen. His death removed from English politics a restraining and conciliatory influence, and from now on, under the weak rule of the young Henry VI, party strife amongst the great nobles sharpened, order in the country began to decline, and so did trust in the King’s government. The conditions that were eventually to lead to the Wars of the Roses were already evident. In France, the English were never again to regain the commanding position and great territories they had briefly won and held under Henry V and Bedford.

John was buried in the cathedral of Notre Dame at Rouen. Some years later King Louis XI of France, being counselled to deface his tomb, replied:

‘What honour shall it be, either to us or to you, to break the monument, and to rake out of the earth the bones of one, who, in his lifetime, neither my father, nor any of your progenitors, with all their puissance were ever once able to make fly one foot backwards; that by his strength or policy, kept them all out of the principal dominions of France, and out of this noble duchy of Normandy?

Wherefore, I say, first, God save his soul, and let his body rest in quiet; which, when he was living, would have disquieted the proudest of us all; and, as for the tomb, which, I assure you, is not so worthy as his acts deserve, I account it an honour to have him remain in my dominions.’