The Mass was beginning now and with a sigh she slid to her knees. Joan knelt too, praying for Richard that he might come safely through the difficult years as he grew to manhood, and she came wholly back to the present as she watched him receive the Host from the Archbishop's hands. The boy looked pale and weary and Joan herself was stiff and tired for the ceremony had already lasted over three hours. He was robed again and turned to face the packed church, the crown on his head, a heavy jewel-encrusted robe over his small shoulders, and the choir sang yet another chant, the sound of their singing rising high into the arched roof. Richard swayed and cast one desperate look at his mother, his cheeks ashen.
He will faint, Joan thought in sudden alarm and caught Sir Simon Burley's eye, thankful she could see that reliable hawk-like countenance. He nodded and as the last notes died away he lifted Richard into his arms. With a sigh of relief the boy leaned against Sir Simon's broad chest, resting his aching head against his tutor carefully in case his crown should fall off. And then, to the cheers of all the assembly, a few laughs and many smiles, Burley carried the new King out to where a litter waited to bear him back to the palace and the feasting. One of his red shoes fell off in the process and the crowd surged forward, everyone eager to grab this souvenir of a great day. A butcher with more muscle than the rest won it and stuffed it inside his jerkin. And then, as Joan came out into the sunshine he pushed his companions back and yelled, 'Make way there! 'Tis the Maid of Kent – let her grace pass. Get back, you silly lorels!'
Joan came down the steps to where her own litter was now drawn up. Confidence had returned and she smiled and waved her hand. To them she was still the Fair Maid and she leaned back with a little satisfied sigh. It was her son who was their anointed, crowned and sacred lord, Richard King of England.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Joan lived for eight years after her son's coronation and saw him grow into a tall handsome youth. She fostered his love of the arts and of gracious living and in 1378 he made her the second lady to be admitted to the order of the Garter, the first being the Princess Isabel. But he lacked the stamina and the character of his father, and his half-brothers, Thomas and John Holland, exercised an undoubtedly bad influence over him. John hastened his mother's death by his actions during Richard's expedition against the Scots in the summer of 1385. In a trifling quarrel over lodgings, he murdered the Earl of Stafford's son and when news of this reached Wallingford Castle where Joan had retired, she wrote at once to Richard to beg him to pardon his half brother. She was very ill with dropsy then and Richard's quite justifiable refusal brought on a seizure. She died in August and the King, overcome with grief, hastily pardoned John.
Perhaps it was as well she did not live to see Richard squander his inheritance. At the height of his unpopularity the accusation of bastardy was thrown at him, even as Archbishop Islip had once predicted; he lost his throne to Lancaster's son, Henry of Bolingbroke, and shortly afterwards was murdered in Pontefract Castle.
During the time of the Peasants' Rising, Richard had shown great courage, stemming the tide of rebellion by riding out to meet the leaders almost alone, and Joan herself encountered the rebels on a drive back from Canterbury. Her carriage stuck in the mud at Blackheath and was surrounded by swarms of unwashed angry peasants, but when they saw who it was in the carriage they cheerfully pushed it free. All they asked of her were a few kisses, which she willingly gave.
At the time of her death her mind wandered back into the past and she asked to be buried, not at Canterbury beside Edward, but in the little church of the Friars Minor at Stamford where her first love, Thomas Holland, had been laid twenty-five years earlier.
THE PLANTAGENET LINE CONTINUES
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Lady of the Garter (The Plantagenets Book 4) Page 21