A Tapestry of Treason, page 28
Chapter Fifteen
December 1404: Eltham Palace
* * *
It was my intention to travel with the royal party from Windsor, where the Queen had been settled, to Eltham, an easy journey by river and then road. Christmas, at the Court of King Henry, was invariably celebrated in these days at Eltham Palace, Henry’s preferred residence. I received a letter, tucked inside my missal when I went to Mass on the morning of our departure. A single sheet of parchment, thrice folded, without seal or inscription. It rested under my fingers for the whole of the priest’s unctuous liturgy.
Returned to my chamber, my coffers packed around me, I stepped through the usual chaos of departure to the window seat and unfolded the page. It was written in an unknown hand, without signature.
It would be wise for you not to travel to Eltham today.
Make an excuse.
Tell no one of this warning.
A stark warning, and there was only one conclusion that could be drawn. It must be that there was some perceived threat to the safety of the King and Queen. But who would make the threat and who would warn me to the exclusion of others? A dangerous letter to leave lying around, I lit the parchment in a candle at my elbow, and watched it fall into ash in a convenient silver bowl, dusting it from my fingers.
‘We are ready, my lady.’ One of my women gestured to the coffers. ‘Do I order them to be taken below? We expect to leave in a half-hour.’
Should I heed an anonymous warning? I did not think so. Anonymous warnings were merely mischievous.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Bring the miniver-lined cloak and hood. Inform the royal party that I will be with them forthwith.’
We travelled by royal barge along the Thames, a regal party with Henry’s younger sons and his daughters as well as the young daughters of Queen Joanna and my own Isabella. And then by cavalcade, a multitude of horse-drawn carriages and mounted escort towards Eltham. If anyone plotted our destruction, here was the perfect occasion to do harm to so many of the royal family. The letter had made me watchful. Should I have informed the Queen to whom I wished no ill? But all passed off in seemly perfection. Henry had a reputation for organising his travels with attention to every detail.
If anything snatched at my attention on that eventless journey, it was that our escort was larger and more powerful than was usual. The royal barges were accompanied by a flotilla of small craft, bristling with men and weapons. As for the cavalcade, before and aft and at each side we were hemmed in by smart soldiery on polished mounts, their weapons gleaming in the low sunshine. Did Henry foresee trouble, or was it merely a sensible precaution? Nor did we waste time, not stopping to receive the welcome of those who gathered at the roadside to wish us well. We rode on with nothing more than a wave of acknowledgement. Perhaps there was an unspoken air of tension cast over all.
Perhaps there was also a guarded exhalation of breath when Eltham opened its doors to us. The threat had, I suspected, not been a false one. If I considered anything for longer than it took to decant children to their appointed accommodations, it was that Edward did not travel with us. I presumed that he was still upholding his authority in Wales.
Any discomfort fast forgotten, Eltham Palace provided the perfect venue for the lavish and lively Christmas all expected. The King and Queen Joanna celebrated with enthusiasm, their household responding to the tone of hopefulness. The bloody events of the Battle of Shrewsbury were fading into the past, the Countess of Oxford’s insubstantial plot was laid to rest. Owain Glyn Dwr might still be a danger, a furious wasp in the Welsh March, but he could be ignored until the new campaigning season in spring. Meanwhile the Court festivities awarded Henry the opportunity to keep a keen eye on those he did not altogether trust, while smiling over all. Edward had made his excuses from Christmas at Carmarthen Castle and made his presence known if only in the quality of his houseaux, the supple leather reaching to his thighs. Dickon, with neither military nor political position to keep him occupied, nor a wife to give him status, lurked uselessly on the edges of conversations. Joan was accompanied by Baron Willoughby and was in need of no compassion; there was a serenity about her, although there was no evidence that she was carrying a Willoughby heir.
To my carefully masked delight, Edmund Holland, Earl of Kent, was also present.
There was much dancing and playing of foolish games. The royal minstrels were overworked and breathless. The food was extravagant, a surfeit of roast swan and sculptured sugar confections, one cunningly carved into the moat and towers of Eltham Palace.
Edward invited me to dance, a sedate processional that required little effort and, unlike the carole dance, allowed the opportunity for conversation. I was reluctant. I had not seen him since he had warned me off meddling in any dangerous affairs. I considered refusing but thought better of it since it would not be politic to be at odds with my son’s legal guardian. I might need to negotiate with him when the time came to discuss Richard’s future bride. It was necessary to look ahead.
‘To what do I owe the honour?’ I enquired.
‘To make a show at this interminable feast as the best-dressed people in the room.’
As we were. There were no signs of penury on Edward’s well-clad shoulders, yet I thought he looked strained. Glyn Dwr must be running him ragged, but nothing new there. Perhaps it was shortage of money despite having my son’s estates to drain. I felt the old bitterness rising in my throat. His houppelande, its sumptuous folds all but reaching the floor in deep blue damask with much gold thread, must have caused his steward to offer up prayers. The gem-studded girdle would have weighed a lesser man to his knees. But I looked again at the lines between nose and mouth, deep-carved, lines that were new to me.
‘You look as satiated as a cat on the hearth,’ he remarked as we came together in the dance, hands touching, sliding away.
‘As I am.’
‘At least dancing with me will prevent you lusting after Edmund Holland.’
‘I do not lust.’ I smiled with all innocence. ‘Are you enjoying my son’s inheritance? Those boots are not the work of a common saddler.’
The movement of the procession gave him time to rally his attack.
‘Do you wish to be an object of pity? Of mockery? How can you preserve your dignity when you slide into bed with the Earl of Kent at every opportunity?’
I looked round at my fellow dancers in feigned astonishment. ‘I see no pity. And there is no one here who would dare to offer me disparagement. We are not indiscreet. The Aldgate house offers us privacy when we have need of it.’
And was it not true? Edmund and I were most circumspect. Who was to know that the jewels I wore were Holland jewels? Only Joan, and she was discretion itself. Who was to know that we had spent an afternoon in intimate solitude, even here at Eltham, except for two of my most trusted women who would fear dismissal if they gossiped?
‘If you think your affairs are secret, you are not the woman I grew up with.’
We separated. When we rejoined, Edward kept hold of my hand and pulled me aside, away from the dancers who simply re-formed around us.
His next words were not what I expected.
‘I need your help, Con.’
I forced my lips into a smile, for the sake of any who might be watching, and patted his arm.
‘Indeed? The last time you actually asked for my help, my husband was executed by a mob.’
‘Well, that has no bearing on the present. You don’t have a husband to be executed. Nor as I recall did I have to ask. In those days you were in the thick of the plotting from the beginning. False emotions have made you soft, Constance.’
‘I’ll not argue against it. If you had ever experienced love, you would know its power for yourself.’
Edward drew me further away, the grip on my forearm uncomfortably tight. ‘Are you really content with all this?’
Uncertain of his meaning, I followed the sweep of his arm to indicate the music and dancing, the laughter and loud voices. The King and Queen receiving Danish ambassadors with regal grace, intent on promoting a marriage between one of the royal daughters and the Danish heir. Once I would not have been accepting of this Lancaster power. But now…
‘I am content.’
‘Where have your ambitions gone? Destroyed in the arms of a lover who will never wed you?’
It was an uncommonly sharp accusation, and not inaccurate, yet I would not rise to Edward’s cleverly cast bait. His devious betrayals had destroyed any desire in me to be amenable, however deliberately chastening his accusation.
‘And how do you know that? You are not privy to what goes on between us.’
‘Henry won’t allow it. Henry is self-serving and you’re no innocent or wealthy bride for the Earl of Kent.’ The habitual laconic persuasion in his low voice had vanished, replaced by an urgency that was raw. ‘Even if you are willing to sink into Lancastrian luxury, I’ll not live out my days as Henry’s lapdog, yapping his name in Carmarthen Castle to terrify the Welsh.’
‘I thought you were well rewarded. You have achieved everything and more than you did under Richard.’
‘Rank, titles, office.’ His eyes narrowed on the royal party. ‘But I’ll never be Henry’s heir.’ So that is what he wanted. After everything that had gone before, the failure, the near death at the vengeful hands of the Lords, Edward still looked to the crown. ‘We can do better,’ he whispered, sotto voce.
His pleasure-loving features had hardened. I had not thought him so driven, nor could I understand what had suddenly resurrected this furious ambition. Nor could I see any role for me in his planning, whatever it might be.
‘What do you want from me, Edward?’
He drew me further away into a quiet gallery where in daylight we might have enjoyed serene views of the moat, away from the constant stream of pleasure-makers. It was only when we had walked to the far end, where we would be unheard, where candles threw little light, that the tension rampaging in my brother was unleashed.
‘I want an acknowledged role in government. I want to feel the reins of power, held tight in my own clenched fist. Henry allows no man’s hand anywhere near them, except for his own sons. Prince Hal has already been blooded on the battlefield and is becoming a man of renown. Thomas is a born leader. And if it’s not the royal princes dictating the future, it is the Beaufort half-brothers.’
‘But that will never change.’
Surely he was not considering another assassination attempt, when the last one had failed so appallingly for all of us? I would not be party to it.
‘No, it won’t. But what if we change the family who rule England?’
I sighed. Once I would have listened but not now. ‘Not again! No one will support you, Edward.’
He ignored the derision in my voice. ‘No, they will not on my own account. But what if we support the conspirators who would make Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, King?’
‘Shh!’
This was treasonous stuff. I had had no idea his thoughts were moving in that direction.
‘Why should we not, if we consider that the claim of Lionel of Clarence’s daughter takes precedence over that of Henry of Lancaster,’ Edward demanded, voicing a proposition that had obviously been uppermost in his mind.
Lionel of Clarence had been King Edward the Third’s second son, thus his claim to the throne pre-empted that of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Except that his only offspring was Philippa, a girl. She had wed Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, thus her grandsons Edmund and Roger had a claim to the throne that was significant, some would say, far stronger than that of Henry of Lancaster, except that in a document attached to his will, King Edward the Third had disinherited his Mortimer descendants. Yet there were still many who would consider Edmund, the young Earl of March, to be worthy of a claim to the English throne.
Edward dragged me into a walk. ‘We tried to remove Henry once before. Why not try again? And this time we will succeed. One of the reasons for our failure was that Richard remained in Henry’s hands until his death. This time we could ensure differently. We could hold the one key player in the game.’
My thoughts were running rapidly.
‘Can you not see that to hold the boy Edmund Mortimer under our control could ensure our success?’ he asked when I did not reply.
I shook my head. Time had passed, times had changed, and those who might have supported a Mortimer claim no longer had the power to do so. Not even Joan, who was aunt to the two boys, had to my knowledge any interest in their claim.
‘I see no hope of that,’ I said. ‘Hotspur is dead. Northumberland is holding onto power but is discredited with the King. Glyn Dwr has his own problems in Wales and I would put no faith in the boy’s uncle Sir Edmund Mortimer, who has thrown in his lot with the Welsh. The Mortimer cause seems to me to be lost. Would you put your faith in a boy of so few years? I doubt he’s any older than my own son. What’s more, the Mortimer heir is Henry’s prisoner, craftily ensconced in Windsor. Your wits are awry, Edward, to even consider it.’
‘My wits are in excellent health. I have thought about this.’ I had not seen such enthusiasm in him since before Richard’s death. ‘With a Mortimer King, and a young one, look at the range of power open to us. For me, for you, for your children. Glyn Dwr will never have power at the centre of government, even if he enforces his claim as Prince of Wales. Northumberland is too old and weak to bid for it. But we can have it.’ He stopped walking to face me. ‘This is why I need you.’
‘No.’ Before he could explain further.
‘I need you to rescue the Mortimer heir and his brother from Windsor. There would be no suspicion in your visiting Windsor, or in speaking with them. You have sufficiently close connection with the royal household now that Richard is sharing his education with the younger royal sons.’
‘You want me to rescue them.’
‘Exactly. Get them out, dispatch them with an escort to the Despenser Welsh lands in Glamorgan. I’ll do the rest.’
This all but robbed me of breath. That he should ask me, believing that I could even give it consideration after his previous betrayal. I would not. To trust Edward was as foolish as to offer my neck to the executioner’s axe.
‘I’m honoured that you think I can.’ My reply was as dry as week-old manchet bread.
‘I know you can. It will give you something to think about other than Holland’s handsome face.’
‘That’s no way to persuade me!’ I turned away from him, to lean on a window ledge and look down into what would have been the grey depths of the moat if I could have seen them. ‘It’s too dangerous. Do you really wish to vie for power with Glyn Dwr and Northumberland and Sir Edmund Mortimer?’
‘Who’s to say I need to? We can do this, Constance. With the Mortimer heir in our hands we can encourage the country to rise to his support. His claim is better than Henry’s. We can make Mortimer King and our future is ensured.’
‘Our future? Even if I thought there was any chance of success, I see nothing in it for me.’
‘You are his royal grandmother’s cousin. Your son Richard can be his close friend and confidant. I can’t think of a better foothold for power. Will you do it?’
I shook my head again, unwilling to even consider it.
‘Think about the advantages.’
‘I see only failure.’
Edward was standing before me, his hands ungently clasping my wrists.
‘There is so much to play for here in this game of chance and power, Con. Don’t reject it out of hand.’
I felt as if I were being hurried along when I could not see the path beneath my feet. There were dangers, where we might all trip and fall. It was as if I were tipped back into my old life when conspiracy had been as easy as taking a breath… which dragged a thought into my mind. A thought that made me stiffen under Edward’s grip. I had forgotten about it. Now it flared into a fully fledged fire.
‘Did you send me the warning?’
‘Which warning?’
‘Not to travel with the royal party.’
‘Why would I?’
‘If you have usurpation in mind now, you might have considered a wholesale slaughter on the road to Eltham.’
‘You are too suspicious. There was no plot to my knowledge. Did you not arrive here safely?’
‘Which does not mean that a massacre was not in your mind. What deep deeds have you at your fingertips, Edward?’
‘None. Other than the one I have laid before you.’
Which irritated me beyond measure. He was calm with conviction, and I did not believe a word he said.
‘Well, you can’t expect me to decide something so important at a Christmas feast, between the wine and the sweetmeats,’ I said. ‘I need to think about this.’ Anything to put him off, to give me time.
‘Don’t think too long. It all needs to be put in place.’
When he released me, I walked smartly back along the gallery to the door.
‘And Constance.’ His voice carried to me, echoing strangely.
‘What?’ I did not look back.
‘Don’t speak of this to Edmund.’
‘Why should I not?’ Now I turned. ‘He is the boy’s uncle. If you are serious about this, would he not be the obvious ally for you, to hold your own against Northumberland and the Welsh when it comes to the sharing out of power?’
And why should Edmund not know? The Mortimer boys were his nephews, sons of his and Joan’s sister Alianore. It concerned me that I was beginning to think about this plot, rather than reject it out of hand.
‘The fewer to know, the better,’ Edward urged.
It reminded me of the night we had conspired together to bring about the Revolt of the Earls. The well-furnished chamber, the costly candles, the meal of dishes much loved by Richard. Most importantly the gathering of my family and the Hollands, all intent on bringing down Henry of Lancaster. We had been so sure, so determined, so driven. We had our tenants at our disposal, and those in the country who would be roused to Richard’s support, to fight for the crown. Now here we were, myself and Edward, in a gallery, little more than a corridor in the gloomy light, with nothing certain but a plot fomenting in Edward’s ever fertile, ever ambitious mind. What could we two achieve? We had failed then, and we would surely fail now. I wanted to be no part of it. I would not ask who might be our allies in such a chancy attempt.
