The Secret Diary of Eleanor Cobham (15 page)

Such talk could, of course, be seen as treason, yet the truth of it was there for anyone who knew the king to see. It was only natural that people would start talking of the line of succession, and my husband was the heir apparent. Not for the first time I found I was dreaming of a day when Duke Humphrey could become king, with me proudly at his side as his queen.

Many untruths have been told about that fateful day when we cast the king’s horoscope. It has been said that it was instigated by my friend Margery Jourdemayne. The good lady suffered greatly as a result of this allegation, yet I had not seen her for some months when I began wondering about the future of the king. Margery Jourdemayne might have been known as a witch but her talent was a good one, curing the sick with her herbal potions and helping the poor with innocent charms that gave them great comfort.

I confess that I approached my friend and astrologer Roger Bolingbroke about the matter and I alone was guilty, if it was a crime to be curious about my future prospects. I knew King Henry V had not wished Queen Catherine to be confined at Windsor Castle because of a prophecy, that Henry born at Windsor shall long reign and all lose. I had no idea if this was true or a fanciful legend, yet the idea that Humphrey could one day be king often returned to my thoughts.

It has been said that we chose to begin with my own horoscope, yet this was untrue. Like so many I regretfully had no record or knowledge of my date of birth, other than it was in the year 1400. My mother would of course have been able to tell me but she had taken the knowledge to her grave. My father was not able to help, as he could only recall that it had snowed the day I was born. He told me he had feared he would lose us both, as mine had been a difficult birth.

I was present at Windsor Castle as lady-in-waiting to Countess Jacqueline, so I was able to clearly recall the excitement and commotion when King Henry was born in the late afternoon of the sixth of
December, 1421. We were able to discover from official records the exact time of the king’s birth was at four minutes to four. This was the information we needed to produce the king’s astrological chart, although we were aware of the risks of doing so. As before, I decided it must be done in absolute secrecy, without even the knowledge of my husband.

Roger Bolingbroke and I worked in the duke’s library, late one evening, when we were certain not to be disturbed. First he drew a circle, much as
Friar Randolph
had done in our London house. He carefully marked on it the symbols of the zodiac and, consulting his books of astrological tables, drew the position of the sun and moon
and planets in relation to the zodiac, which made it possible to calculate the horoscope with precision
for the time of the king’s birth.

He drew a series of lines, explaining that the interpretation is best done from the simple to the more complex. The king’s horoscope revealed he was in Sagittarius, with one of his dominant planets being the sun. This, Roger told me, can indicate a sense of honour and dignity, with charismatic leadership qualities, yet also a weakness related to the sin of pride or to excessive authority. With Mercury among his dominant planets, the king’s weakness could lie in his nervousness to follow his instinct.

The question of threats to the king’s well-being proved to be complex to determine.
Roger Bolingbroke said it was impossible to indicate a death point in an astrological chart and anyone who suggested otherwise was a charlatan. A horoscope could reveal areas that put someone at risk, although this would be a subjective interpretation. I was intrigued to learn more. With so much resting on this knowledge I
suggested we should consult with our friend Thomas Southwell. After much discussion, it seemed from the horoscope that the king could suffer a life-threatening illness. Although it was not possible to be certain of the date, the calculations indicated the summer of 1441.

Carpe diem

This is the warmest summer I can remember. The grass in the inner courtyard is parched from lack of rain and where there was once thick mud is now turned to a fine dust, which clings to my dress as I walk. My precious ink dries instantly on the page and the parchment feels almost brittle as my sharpened quill scrapes these coded words. I am grateful for the light breeze which comes through my window from the sea and, when I can, will return to my prayers in the chapel, the one place in this castle that remains cool despite the sun.

I have often had reason to mention the long standing conflict between my husband and what he called ‘The Beaufort party’, led by Cardinal Henry Beaufort. Both such strong-minded men, the conflict between them caused us endless problems as the two sides could never reconcile their differences. The Beaufort family were a rising power in England, yet while Humphrey retained favour at Court they could not claim to have the most influence with the king. Then in the spring of 1440 their arguments came to the fore when Cardinal Beaufort decided it was time to agree terms for peace with France.

Humphrey was one of the few who opposed this, not in anger against the cardinal’s change of heart or even because his brothers had given their lives to secure England’s position in the territories now being handed over so easily. I know he still yearned to be a Prince of Holland. Even yet, my husband signed his name with the titles Duke of Gloucester, Holland, Zealand and Brabant, Earl of Pembroke, Hainault and Flanders.

He cautioned the king that some were imposing on his youth. Then he called for the cardinal to be removed from his post on the King’s Council, together with the Archbishop of York, who had also been made a cardinal by the pope. It was a test of who had most influence with the king and, unfortunately for us, the pious king supported the call for peace, not war.

Humphrey took it badly, as his political future and status were now shown to be in rapid decline. It seemed our enemies had won after all. With little to lose, Humphrey decided to publicly challenge the cardinal, asking the questions which no one had dared put into words. Where had the great wealth of the cardinal come from? It was not from his religious offices and he had not inherited his fortune. Was it through the sale of favours and grants of land that were rightfully the property of the king?

My husband also accused Cardinal Beaufort of arranging the marriage of his niece, Lady Joan Beaufort, to James of Scotland, then contriving his release without the authority of Parliament, illegally recovering his jewels when forfeited to the Crown. Humphrey produced damming evidence that the cardinal had also failed to pay the dues of his cathedral church at Winchester. The allegation was that Cardinal Beaufort had grown arrogant by ill-gotten gains and now acted not like a humble servant of the church but like royalty, effectively governing the kingdom.

Looking back at the events of that dreadful year it seems we should have known the cardinal was a dangerous enemy who should never have been underestimated. He had already shown himself capable of the most unscrupulous acts, yet at the time Humphrey was angry with the cardinal and felt he still had enough power and influence in parliament and the royal court to put such questions and demand a response.

The cardinal’s reply was unexpected. He called for the release of Duke Charles of Orleans, held by my father under an order from King Henry V that he was only to be released when his son had come of age and our domination of France was complete. Humphrey was outraged and protested most publicly that releasing the Duke of Orleans was against the wishes of his brother, the late king, and playing into the hands of the Duke of Burgundy. At last he aroused the popular support he wished for. The people could see the truth of his words and called for the king to act.

I first learned the news from my husband. I found him in his library, where I saw he had been drinking a good quantity of his best wine. The ambitious, successful man I married was gone, replaced by a tired grey shadow of his former self, and I knew that once again our lives were going to change. I remember how he took my hand and kissed it, trying his best to smile. When he spoke, his voice carried a great sadness. He said it was too late. The king was already too far under the control of Cardinal Beaufort.

He told me the king had issued a proclamation that he desired it to be understood the release of the Duke of Orleans was at his own initiative and no one else was responsible. We knew these were Cardinal Henry Beaufort’s words, yet there was nothing to be done. The king had asserted his wish to bring to an end to the war that had endured for over a hundred years. Duke Charles of Orleans was to swear an oath he would never take arms against England and would use his influence to remove the desire for war amongst those in power in France.

I must confess I felt a sense of relief, rather than anger. It was far from the outcome my husband had hoped for, yet I was as tired of English politics as he was. It would have been good to see him triumph over his old enemy, and it pained me to see him looking so broken. He had worked hard as Lord Protector, always looking after the best interests of the king, for his entire life. Never once had he sought to profit from his position by taking money for favours, yet his reward for all this diligent service to the crown was to be publicly humiliated.

For me, the king’s decision to side with Henry Beaufort was the final proof my experiments with the secret arts were futile. My mind had been turned by the wonderful gifts from the king, coming so soon afterwards. They were a clear sign that at the time I was already highly in his favour. My presents were even grander than gifts he gave to his own mother, yet there was no reason to connect them with the little effigies buried deep in a secret place at Windsor. I resolved that never again would I risk such experiments.

Now I will write about the most wonderful yet saddest thing that has happened to me for the past ten years, while it is fresh in my memory. Lady Ellen was waiting for me at the entrance to the chapel when I took my walk. I could see right away she had something of much importance to tell me and was carrying a small bundle. She dismissed my guards, who retreated a short distance and watched us with curious interest.

Ellen turned to me. ‘I would like to repay you for making my son well again.’

I shook my head. ‘You have already shown me great kindness.’

‘As a mother, I know how much you must miss your daughter.’

I looked at her, trying to understand her smile. ‘Not a single day has passed that I don’t pray for her to be safe and well.’

She took my hand in hers. ‘I have found your daughter.’

I was shocked. ‘Antigone? Is she well?’

‘Yes, she is well. I wrote to her and asked if she can visit you.’

I hardly dared ask my question. ‘Will Sir William permit it?’

‘I asked him as a favour. He was reluctant, which is how it has taken so long to arrange. I reminded him you have been here more than a year now and never given him trouble.’ Lady Ellen smiled again. ‘He is a good man, Eleanor.’

I didn’t know how to thank Lady Ellen and her husband. ‘When can I see her?’

‘They arrived in Beaumaris yesterday.’ She saw my look and added, ‘Antigone travelled with her son, your grandson.’ She looked serious. ‘There is something else I need to tell you, Eleanor.’

I sensed from her manner she had to tell me bad news. Had something happened to one of the children? Had my actions brought trouble on the last surviving members of our family?

‘Your daughter’s husband Henry, Earl of Powys. I regret to tell you he has died.’

Once again I was shocked, yet at the same time relieved it was not the children. ‘I remember him as a young man, full of life. He can’t have been more than forty. Do you know how?’

‘No. I thought you should know before you see your daughter.’ She looked towards the main gatehouse. ‘I will bring her here, to the chapel. You must prepare, Eleanor. I will send a man to fetch you when your daughter is here.’

 
I thanked her again and returned to my room, hardly believing what had happened. I felt a strange mix of elation and apprehension about seeing Antigone after so long. My mind was full of questions. How had her husband died? Why had she never written to me? Had she tried to visit and been turned away without me knowing? How would she look after ten years, and how would she feel about what had happened to me?

It was important for me to look my best for my daughter. As I brushed dust from the hem of my red dress I realised Lady Ellen knew Antigone could soon be visiting when she gave it to me, yet decided to say nothing until she was certain. I combed my hair and plaited and coiled it in the new style I had seen Ellen wearing, and then an idea occurred to me. Taking the small blade the priest had given me, I made sure I wasn’t being watched through the grill in my door. I carefully cut open the stitching at the secret pocket of my old blue dress where the last of my jewellery was concealed.

When I fled my home at Bella Court I filled a bag with gold and silver coins and my best jewellery. Over the years of my imprisonment these had been reduced to the rings I now wore, two gold brooches with large rubies and a pearl necklace given to me one New Year’s day by my husband. I had wasted the coins, rewarding my servants in the early days of my imprisonment, little realising I should have kept them to bribe my guards or pay for much needed food. The best and most priceless of all, the precious diamond brooch given to me by the king, was stolen from me. I curse the man who took my golden garter:
Evil
unto him!

For the first time in over ten years, I fixed the ruby brooch at the neck of my dress and fastened my pearl necklace around my neck. I wished I had a mirror to see the effect. Once I would have been worried my jewels would be taken by the guards, yet now it was a risk I was prepared to take. Lady Ellen would not allow it. It was strange but the simple act of wearing expensive jewellery again made me forget all the hardship and gave me the confidence I needed to face my daughter.

I heard footsteps and the bolt on my door slid noisily open. The guard gestured to me and I followed him down to the castle chapel, which had been lit with a dozen new candles, even though it was late morning. As I entered I saw Antigone, with a smartly dressed young boy as tall as her waiting awkwardly at her side. We stood for a moment, frozen in time, taking in the changes in each other over ten years. Still slim and attractive, she wore an emerald green dress and looked younger than her thirty years. I could still see the little girl who had squealed when Humphrey used to tease her.

She rushed forward and hugged me, sobbing. It was all I could do not to cry, even though I had not been happier since her wedding day at Bella Court.

‘I thought I would never see you again, Antigone. It is so good to know you are well.’

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. ‘My husband told me you were dead. He said you died of a fever, in Peel Castle.’

‘That is why you never wrote?’

Antigone nodded, unable to speak. I wondered if that was what everyone had been told or if it was Sir Henry Grey’s way to end my connection with his family. In a sudden insight I realised we married our daughter to the wrong man. Henry Grey might have been a wealthy Earl but he was no politician and, at least up to the time of my arrest, had never been called to parliament. If we had found Antigone a more influential husband he might have been able to plead with the king for clemency and negotiate my release.

‘I am sorry to hear about your husband.’

‘Yes. It has been a difficult time for us.’ She seemed somehow angry about her husband and I wondered if he had treated her badly. Antigone dried her eyes as she gestured for her son to come forward. ‘This is Humphrey. He is twelve now.’

I looked again at the tall and serious looking young boy who had been a baby when I last saw him. ‘You remind me of your grandfather, Humphrey. Do you know your name is a tradition handed down from your de Bohun ancestors?’

‘From my great-grandmother’s family.’ He glanced at Antigone. ‘Mother has taught us all the history of our family.’ His voice was confident and echoed in the chapel.

I nodded in approval. ‘Lady Mary was supposed to have become a nun. She was already living in a convent and was taken from there to be married to your great-grandfather, King Henry IV, when she was barely your own age.’