The Queen of Last Hopes (13 page)

Christening gifts poured in from the nobles, and as my baby thrived, I happily contemplated the possibility of at last being forgiven for being a Frenchwoman and for having so signally failed to bring the hoped-for peace. Even the news that Henry’s advisors had overruled Somerset’s wishes and summoned York to an upcoming meeting of his great council failed to dampen my optimistic mood as I dandled little Edward and contemplated which foreign princess would have the great good fortune to be his bride.

Then, one morning in late November, not long after I had gone through the churching ceremony that marked the end of my confinement, Hal Beaufort was shown into my chamber. He did not even wait for me to greet him before he said, “That whoreson York has arrested my father. He is a prisoner in the Tower!”

“What on earth for?”

“France, what else? The loss of Normandy and Gascony, when Father did his best to save Gascony! York will never let that business lie; what did he ever do to help the situation? Nothing! Sat on his estates in Ireland while Normandy was lost, then came back here and arrested Father instead of standing behind King Henry as he should have. Not a word about how my father sent one of our best soldiers, the Earl of Shrewsbury, to fight in Gascony. Not a word! And—”

“Hal! Calm yourself if you can. I know it is distressing for you, but you must tell me what happened and not go off into a rage. Give me the details.”

Hal took a breath. “Actually, it’s Norfolk who accused Father of treason, but Norfolk is York’s creature. I’m sure of it. He hasn’t the brains to organize this business himself—or the balls.” The colloquialism did not escape me, and I gave Hal a frosty look. Undeterred, he continued, “York probably wrote the speech he gave in council for him. It’s typical of him to let someone else do his unpleasant work for him. Norfolk can come off as the belligerent one, while York stands there nodding calmly, the soul of sweet reason.”

“But what did he say, Hal?”

“That a man who gave up towns without siege and who fled from battle should be beheaded.” Hal’s voice faltered at the last word. At seventeen, he suddenly looked very young. “I was there with Father in France! Norfolk and York don’t know what it was like there. The people of Rouen were leagued with the French; a siege would have been hopeless. My father might have made a misjudgment but he’s no coward.”

“Of course not,” I said. I patted Hal on his shoulder. “I will summon York here and see what his intentions are,” I said after some thought.

“Norfolk couldn’t have made them clearer. They want to kill my father. Just like they wanted to kill the Duke of Suffolk,” he added.

I found myself unable to gainsay him.

That very afternoon, I summoned the Duke of York to my presence, and he arrived promptly the next day. He thanked me for my kindness to his wife, who had written a letter to me shortly before my lying-in, begging me to intercede with the king to bring her husband back into favor. I had not told her of the state of Henry’s health, but had gone so far as to suggest to Buckingham that it would be a good thing, perhaps, if York were allowed to return to court on conditions of good behavior. “You paid me back ill by arresting Somerset,” I said bluntly. “He has his faults, I acknowledge, and has made mistakes, but he has been nothing but loyal to Henry since his return to England. Is it not time to let bygones be bygones? Yes, we have failed in France. Yes, some of it was probably Somerset’s fault. Much of it, we can even say. But what good does it do to fight about it now?”

“With due respect, your grace, this is a matter of honor, of knightly honor. It is a concept a woman cannot understand as well as a man.”

“I am no knight, but I understand that with my husband ill, you lords should be working together instead of fighting one another. I understand that our son will be ruling England someday, and I wish to see him presiding over a secure one.”

“Somerset’s trial and punishment will be beneficial to the realm and to the prince, your grace.”

“How?”

“It will rid the king of a councillor who has done him nothing but harm and who has served his self-interest.”

The unctuous tone was beginning to grate on me. “And you have no self-interest yourself, my lord?”

“No man is free of self-interest, but my interest is far more with seeing England restored to her former strength and glory, which will serve us all. And in any case, Somerset’s fate is not in my own hands, but in that of the lords of the land. I was not even the one who impeached him. That was the Duke of Norfolk, though I certainly concurred with his sentiments.”

“The king is much attached to the Duke of Somerset. He will be vexed and grieved if Somerset comes to any harm.”

“If he recovers.”

“Do you wish for the king’s recovery, my lord?”

“Why, of course,” York said, his response just a beat too slow.

***

When I dismissed the Duke of York, I went to the place at Westminster in which I was happiest—the nursery.

The nurses promptly brought me Edward, whose light blue eyes gazed back at me with the vague interest of a very young baby as I took him in my arms. “Did you miss me? Are you being a good boy?” His nurses assured me that he was the most good-natured of babies, though of course I would not have believed them if they had said otherwise. I turned to the wet nurse. “Is he still suckling well?”

“Beautifully, your grace. The prince has an excellent appetite.”

I smiled and sat as Edward drowsed in my arms. Content as I was to hold my boy, I could not push the encounter I just had from my mind. Since York came back from Ireland, his single goal had been to get rid of Somerset, and with Henry incapacitated, he might just achieve his goal—against a man who was my husband’s chosen advisor. To strike at Somerset was in its way to strike at Henry.

Though both the Duke of Exeter and the Duke of Somerset believed that York had been behind Suffolk’s death and the Jack Cade revolt, no one had ever proven his involvement—but then again, no one had proven his lack of involvement either. I stroked my son’s hair and frowned into space. I could not help but believe that for all of York’s grand words about acting for the good of the realm, he was also acting for the good of himself. How far might his ambition take him? My little son stood between York and the crown; could York ignore this fact? If the worst happened to Somerset and Henry never recovered his wits, what might happen to my Edward in a kingdom controlled by York?

I turned my gaze back to Edward. “Whom can we trust, little one?” I asked softly.

And then the answer came.
Myself
.

***

The Duke of Buckingham stared at me for a good minute, then sputtered, “Your grace. Are you mad?”

“No,” I said. “One mad spouse in a marriage is enough, I believe.”

Buckingham flinched at my sardonic tone. I had caught myself making grim little jokes like this more and more often; if I did not, I might well cry to think of the Henry I had married and the Henry who sat insensible at Windsor. “But a queen—to have the governance of the country! A woman!”

“Most queens are women, surely? Come now, Buckingham. I am not attempting to be another Queen Matilda.” I knew little about her, but I had observed that the mention of her name had a tendency to make Englishmen blanch, and Buckingham predictably shuddered. “I am only asking to be made regent until Henry recovers or until our son is old enough to rule. Then I will go back to stitching altar cloths, I promise you. And I will not be without good counsel. You and others shall make sure of that.”

“England is not ready for a woman wielding that sort of power.”

“Nor was England ready for a mad king, but we have one, don’t we? And in any case, women have been regents in France, and yes, I am aware that this is not France.” Buckingham smiled slightly, just enough to encourage me to press ahead. “My lord, it does make sense. I pray that no harm comes to Somerset, for I am fond of him, and even more so of his children. But if he does survive, then he will doubtless take his revenge upon York, and then York will be taking his revenge upon him, and on and on while the kingdom suffers. If I were regent there would be one less thing for them to quarrel over.”

“Don’t be so sure, madam. We men will always find something to quarrel over.”

“Do at least consider this, Buckingham. I shall have to prepare my bill to put before Parliament. You will have time to ponder it.”

Buckingham made a sound that might have been a grunt, then recovered his natural politeness. “I will think upon it, but I can promise nothing else.”

“That is enough for now. And now, my lord, I think it is time to show the king his son. Perhaps that might help heal him.”

“I can agree with your grace on that.”

I sighed. “I dread it, you know, even as I know it might be our last hope. To see Henry being fed and walked about, completely helpless…” My eyes filled with tears. “In truth, I have put off mentioning it because I fear the sight so much.”

“He is kept well. But it is a grievous sight, I must admit, at least for those who have not seen him so before. I am compelled to say that I am used to his altered state now, but it took time.” I must have looked as forlorn as I suddenly felt, for Buckingham added, “My lady, I shall be with you.”

“Shall the Duke of York be there?”

“Not if you do not wish him to be.”

“Good. I don’t.”

***

Soon before Christmas, on an unusually mild day, I and my son rode by barge from Greenwich to Windsor. There we were conducted to the chamber where Henry’s attendants brought him every day to sit in his chair of state in the hope that this routine might push him back into a state of normalcy.

We had agreed that seeing both Edward and me at the same time might shock Henry and do him more harm than good, so I handed Buckingham my son as we stood outside the half-open door. “Don’t drop him.”

“I’ve held my own sons many a time, your grace, and they’ve thrived,” said Buckingham good-naturedly. “See?” He nodded at his eldest son, a man in his early twenties who had accompanied us. “The Earl of Stafford is living proof of it.”

I smiled nervously as Buckingham went through the door. From my position, outside of Henry’s line of sight, I could not see Buckingham, but I heard him say in a hearty voice, “See, your grace, your queen has given you a fine prince! We crave your blessing.”

There was no sound except for my own deep sigh. The Duchess of Buckingham took my hand as my lip began to tremble in spite of my efforts to keep my face calm. “It may take time, your grace.”

Buckingham kept on speaking in a bright tone, telling Henry about my son’s christening and about his godparents, who were the Archbishop of Canterbury, poor Somerset, and the Duchess of Buckingham. After once again begging for the king’s blessing, he said in a lower voice, “Your grace, your queen has come to Windsor as well.”

I was inside the chamber before Buckingham had even finished his sentence.

I dropped to my knees in front of Henry. For the first time in months, I looked upon my husband. Henry was paler than usual, having not spent time riding each day as had been his wont, but he was properly shaven and his hair had been trimmed just as he liked it, a trifle too short for fashion. His robes were immaculate. I had feared that having to be fed his meals would have caused him to lose too much weight, but although he was visibly thinner, he was not starkly so. It was his eyes that were most changed. The gentle eyes that had looked at me so lovingly when we met at Southampton were blank, like those of a corpse, and they stared toward the floor, never varying their downward gaze except to blink occasionally and give me false hope.

Buckingham gave me a moment to absorb the shock of my husband’s appearance, then carefully put Edward in my arms. His familiar, dear weight made me recover myself. “Henry,” I said in the same forced, bright tone Buckingham had used, “I bring you the great gift we have received from God, our son. He is healthy, thanked be the Lord, and he needs only your blessing.”

Henry’s eyes flickered, and suddenly he turned his eyes straight upon our son. Buckingham and the attendants nearby gasped. Then Henry dropped his eyes again. His expression had never changed.

“Henry, please. Your blessing on our fair son.” I rose and handed Edward to Buckingham, who looked near tears. I took Henry’s limp hand in mine, then kissed his cold cheek. “My love,” I whispered. “Do you not remember me, Marguerite, your queen? I love you so dearly. Please come back to me. I miss you so much, and our son needs a father. Our country needs a king.”

Henry remained motionless in his great chair, oblivious to my kisses and caresses. Even Edward’s growing fussiness, culminating in an outright wail, did nothing to rouse him. “I will come again and see you with our son,” I said finally, stepping back, trying to keep from my voice the hopelessness I felt. “God keep you, my husband.”

Outside Henry’s chamber, I broke down and wept on the duchess’s shoulder. “Still, there was that one movement he made,” the Duke of Buckingham said tentatively when I had recovered. “It is little enough, but it is more than anything we have seen before. Perhaps in a month or two—”

“I do not think I can bear it,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Get me out of this place. Now.”

***

I wept my fill about Henry, and then I set to work with my councillors, drawing up my petition to be named regent. Meanwhile, Somerset languished in prison while the rest of the lords gathered together weapons and followers, seemingly preparing for war instead of for the Parliament that was supposed to meet in February. Even the elderly Archbishop of Canterbury, John Kemp, thought it prudent to arm all of his servants. No one knew what to expect from anyone, and everyone was coming prepared for anything.

“At least I am not coming with a group of armed men like all the rest,” I told Katherine Vaux as she brushed out my hair the night before I was to ride to Parliament. “That surely will count for something in my favor.”

“Do you think they will grant your petition?”

“I can only hope, but I am pessimistic,” I said, sighing as my long hair swirled around my face. Henry had loved the sight and would sometimes brush it for me. “York has been given the commission to hold Parliament in lieu of Henry, and before Parliament even began, he brought a lawsuit against the Speaker of the Commons and had him thrown into the Fleet after judgment was entered against him. York wants Thorpe out of the way, of course, because he is an associate of Somerset’s. And Norfolk, York’s creature, is attempting to get Archbishop Kemp dismissed as chancellor.”