The Star of Lancaster (37 page)

‘I do not need to ask if you are in good health,’ said Henry.

Harry thought: I cannot say the same for you, old man.

‘I am well as I trust you are, my lord.’

Henry waved his hands. ‘You see me in sorry state. More and more responsibility will be put onto your shoulders, Harry.’

Harry stood up very straight, smiling, confident of his ability to carry it.

‘I would there were not these reports of you . . . carousing in low taverns.’

‘It is my way of meeting the people.’

‘You can do that satisfactorily at my Court.’

‘Which I do,’ said Harry. ‘But I would meet all sorts. What do most courtiers know of the villeins, water men, merchants and such like?’

‘What do they want to know of them?’

‘What they are thinking. That they are loyal subjects. We could depend on such as them to keep us on our thrones.’

‘You have not yet a throne, Harry.’

‘No, sir. But I am the heir to one.’

‘Take care.’

‘But it is what I do constantly, my lord.’

‘You are acquiring a reputation for low living.’

‘And for high living, my lord. I am living my life to the full.’

‘You give me cause for anxiety, my son.’

‘My lord, you give
me
cause for anxiety. You are not in good health.’

The King was silent.

‘Father,’ said Harry, ‘you may rely on me to stand beside you, to be your deputy, to take on those duties which you feel yourself unable to carry out.’

My God, thought Henry, his fingers itch to take the crown!

He said coldly: ‘I have no duties in low taverns.’

‘Why,’ laughed Harry, ‘it is my way of passing the time. Give me my tasks and I will carry them out to your satisfaction.’

‘I am going to put the Earl of March and his brother into your keeping.’

Harry’s eyes shone with pleasure.

‘Rest assured I shall keep them safe from interfering relations and their accommodating blacksmiths.’

‘See to it. And Harry . . . you have noticed this affliction of mine?’

Harry nodded.

‘And others?’

‘They do not speak to me of it.’

‘There will come a time when I fear it will be the undoing of me. But it is a slow process.’

Harry was silent.

‘There should be amity between us two, my son. I would have you remember your position.’

‘I could never forget it, my lord.’

‘Our claim to the crown could be contested.’

‘Could and is,’ said Harry.

‘This matter of young March . . .’

‘Ah, we have our enemies.’

‘Surrounding us, my son. That is why we must stand together.’

‘And take great care.’

‘York is safe at Pevensey.’

‘He should not be kept long under restraint. He will become a martyr. Men will speak of him and perhaps say he had right on his side.’

‘What would you do then. Free him?’

‘After a while, yes. And restore his estates to him.’

‘As a reward for playing traitor?’

‘He is of our family. He had worked for us. He saved us remember when he was with the plotters at Windsor. But for him it might well be that you and I should not be here now discussing how to safeguard the crown. We shall get good service from him yet. He is a man governed by his emotions. Let him fret a while in prison. Then I will speak for him and guarantee his good behaviour. He will be a good servant to me then, I’ll promise you. He is one who will remember a service.’

‘Me-thinks you would already govern this realm.’

‘Think on it,’ said Harry with a smile. Then he bowed low and said: ‘At your service, my lord and father. Together we shall hold the crown against all who might come against us.’

After he had left Henry was thoughtful, and his apprehension and pride were stronger than ever.

Harry was right, they must not be vindictive to the Duke of York. The people might even say that he was jealous because of the Duke’s admiration of the Queen.

Four months after the Duke of York had been sent to Pevensey, he was released and his goods and lands restored to him.

Harry appeared to have judged correctly. The Duke was grateful. Henry believed that if there was another attempt to snatch the crown, York would be beside him and his son.

Two men swaggered over the cobbles of East Cheap and entered the Boar’s Head. They were an incongruous pair – one rotund, the other slender; and there was such a difference in their ages that they might have been father and son.

They sprawled together at a bench and called for wine. The girl who brought it, her hair hanging lankly over the tawdry ribbons of her none too clean gown, laid her hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave him an inviting smile.

He squeezed her thigh. ‘Some other time,’ he said with a wink at his companion. ‘Tonight mayhap.’

‘Nay,’ said the older man with a rumbling laugh, ‘have naught to do with these callow youths, lass. Take a man like me . . . a man who has travelled far and wide . . . in the French wars . . . in the German wars . . . and in any wars you can name.’

‘Listen not to him,’ said the younger one. ‘He is old and incapable.’

‘You two!’ said the woman with a flounce of her skirts. ‘If I know aught it’ll be talk and talk. That’s what you do best, mark my words.’

With this she left with a twirl of her musty skirts.

The older man sat back on the bench and surveyed the younger.

‘You effect a good disguise, my lord,’ he said. ‘I’d find good sport in standing on this bench and shouting to them all: Behold your Prince.’

‘I don’t doubt you would,’ replied Harry. ‘Would they believe you?’

‘A right good scandal it would make.’

‘Bless you, John, there are scandals enough about me.’

‘What’s for tonight?’

‘A little bit of robbery me-thinks.’

‘What have you in mind then?’

‘There are some about me who suspect my fondness for this place. I heard them whispering about the Boar’s Head in East Cheap. We’ll surprise him, they said. That’ll be good sport.
I want
to surprise them.’

‘You bring good custom to the Boar’s Head, my lord. The landlord should be pleased with you.’

‘His harlot of a daughter does not seem to be. God’s ear, John, I think she prefers you.’

‘Ah, there is a lot to be said for a man of experience.’

‘There’s more to be said for youth.’

‘Well you, my lord, are in good way of combining the two. But take care with the poxy wenches.’

‘Away dull care,’ cried Harry. ‘Care is for courts. Bawdry for the Boar’s Head, trickery for taverns . . . What say you, John, to this? Here we meet the people. We hear what they think of the King and his son. The King who filched Richard’s crown. The Prince who is itching to take it. The King who is mean and grasping. The Prince who wastes their money on
debauchery. By God, I would it were true, John; I would I had it to waste on debauchery.’

‘You manage debauchery at a low price,’ replied Oldcastle.

‘’Tis to be had at all prices and cheaper here in the Boar’s Head than at Court.’

‘Tell me, what is this plan?’

‘Tonight we lurk in the streets. We play the footpad on these fine gentlemen from Court. We take their money. ’Twill be a new game. A good one too.’

‘Are you short of money again?’

‘Not of the kind they will have on their persons.’

‘They could harm you.’

‘God bless you, John, am I going to curb my inclinations because I am afraid of being hurt? Would you say, “Do not go into battle, my lord, you may be hurt?” Look at this scar here on my forehead. Battle honours, John. An arrow at Shrewsbury where we slew brave Hotspur. Enough of your caution. Out into the streets. We’ll lurk there and we will catch them on their way to the tavern.’

‘It seems a good sport,’ said Oldcastle.

Harry drew something from under his cloak. ‘Masks, John. They must not know it is a game.’

‘’Tis easier for you to disguise yourself than it is for me to do so. My bulk betrays me.’

‘Why, John, there are thousands of bulky men and where in England is a figure as neat and slender as mine. They look at me, no matter how I’m clad and say: “There goes noble Harry.’”

‘Nay. I shall be the better known.’

‘Would you start a quarrel now then, fat man?’

‘I would and I will it, boy.’

Harry laughed. ‘No time for private wars, old fellow. Come . . .’

‘Are you going then, fair sirs?’ It was the landlord’s daughter.

Harry took her by the shoulder and gave her a hearty kiss on the mouth.

‘I’ll be back, sweetheart,’ he said.

They came out into the streets. The flickering tallow candle in the tavern had given little light but it was some seconds before their eyes were adjusted to the gloom.

They picked their way carefully over the uneven ground avoiding the kennel in the middle of the road which would be overflowing with refuse, yet keeping from the walls in case someone threw out something which was even more obnoxious.

Harry loved the adventure of the streets by night. At any moment some cut-throat might spring out on them, or they might be accosted by some prostitute whom they would know must be hard-pressed since she had wandered out in the darkness. To Harry it was excitement. He liked the streets by day with their lively activity; he liked to mingle with apprentices and pretend to be one of them; he liked to bargain with the stallholders and talk of the iniquities of the tax laws; he liked to buy a ballad of a ballad singer and take it into the tavern and try it out; he would exchange banter with a milkmaid and parley with a madam who was trying to sell him one of her girls from the country. Sometimes he joined in fights when he could always give a good account of himself. ‘What do you lack?’ he would shout at the apprentices. He would stand and watch the craftsmen at work in their open shops. He would startle a beggar by the size of his contribution and then slink away quickly while the beggar called a blessing on him. He loved it all – the filth, the squalor and the grandeur of the
London streets. It was a delight to mingle with these people, to know how they thought, how they acted; he liked their pride and that certain dignity which was as ingrained in them as it was in the highest nobility.

It was men such as these merchants and their apprentices who would stand beside him against his enemies, he believed. He did not want them there because they feared not to join him; he wanted to understand them, to talk with them, to have them work for him and give him loyalty not because it was treason not to, but because they wanted to.

He wanted to know the people he would one day rule. That was one reason why he mingled with them. The other was that he enjoyed the sport of it. He liked to spend a night with a woman who thought he was a young apprentice and who had no idea that briefly she enjoyed the privilege of sharing her bed with the Prince of Wales.

It was adventure that appealed to his youth and high spirits; and because there was danger in it, he liked it the better.

‘Hist,’ said John Oldcastle. ‘I hear revellers.’

‘’Tis they,’ whispered Harry. ‘I know their voices. Let’s take them from behind.’

They crouched by the wall. Three young men came by, courtiers in their velvet. One held a pomander, sniffing it purposefully.

Harry laughed inwardly. He heard one say: ‘Me-thinks the Prince has little taste.’

‘He’ll have a surprise when he sees us,’ said another.

‘Now!’ whispered Harry.

They had caught two of the young men from behind. The one with the pomander dropped it and cried out: ‘Help. We are set upon. Thieves.’

Harry laughed. It showed how little he knew of the London streets. Such a cry was enough to set everyone bolting their doors.

There was a scuffle. They were after all three to two. Harry was agile but not agile enough. He caught a strong blow in the ribs which left him breathless, but he was quick to respond and sent his opponent down to the ground.

He then tackled the gentleman with the pomander, who was easy prey.

‘Their purses,’ he whispered to Oldcastle. And in a few seconds they were running through the dark streets with three purses in their possession.

Harry leaned against a wall and burst out laughing. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘they will tell a fine tale.’

They did not go back to the tavern that night.

The next day Harry enquired how his friends had received their bruises and expressed deep concern when they told him they had been set upon in East Cheap by a pack of ruffians.

‘The streets are unsafe by night,’ said Harry with a show of concern.

Oldcastle added: ‘’Tis unsafe to wander in them unarmed. Did you have nothing to defend yourself?’

‘My good sir, try to defend yourself when set on by a gang.’

‘Were there many of them?’ asked Harry solemnly.

‘I’d say we were outnumbered three to one.’

‘No chance against so many,’ muttered Oldcastle.

‘A plague on them, they had our purses.’

‘And you cannot afford the loss, I’ll swear,’ said Harry. ‘Who of us can? I’ll be generous. You’re good fellows and brave. I’ll swear you gave a good account of yourself. You will allow me to reimburse you.’