The Star of Lancaster

by Jean Plaidy

  They took the only action possible. They fled.

  The King returned to London. He had quelled the revolt with greater ease than Richard had dispersed the band of peasants who came against him. This was not, of course, on the same scale; but such risings could be dangerous.

  He eagerly awaited news of the prisoners who had been taken. There were many of them.

  ‘Is Lord Cobham among them?’ he asked.

  ‘No, my lord. It would seem that he got away . . . if indeed he were there. He is the one we want, my lord. He might attempt again what he has failed to do this time.’

  ‘He is a slippery fellow, this Oldcastle.’

  ‘We should bring him to the Tower and this time make sure he gets his deserts.’

  ‘We should,’ agreed the King, ‘but I doubt he will be easy to hold. He escaped before.’

  ‘His fate will be quickly decided this time. He is a heretic as well as a traitor to you, my lord.’

  The King half closed his eyes. There were so many memories of John. How had they come to this? They should have been friends for life.

  ‘Yes,’ said Henry firmly, ‘his fate will be decided quickly.’

  And what would it be? The axe, the rope? The heretic’s death?

  Henry could not shut out of his mind the thought of John Badby. The hideous smell of scorching flesh.

  Oh John, you fool, he thought.

  When he heard that Lord Cobham had escaped from the Fields (if he had been there) and had gone into hiding he was filled with relief.

  Stay in hiding, you old idiot, he thought. And for the love of God, come to your senses!

  Chapter XI

  AGINCOURT

  Henry burned with ambition. All the energies which had gone into his night adventures were now concentrated on one aim. That was to win the crown of France.

  He called together his council and told them that negotiations with the French must begin without delay. He laid claim to the crown of France. It was without doubt his. They might maintain the Salic law in France but England took no account of it; and through Isabella of France the mother of his great-grandfather Edward the Third the crown must come to him.

  His brothers the Dukes of Gloucester and Bedford stood firmly beside him; so did his uncle the Duke of Exeter and his cousin the Duke of York.

  The leading nobles were assembled too with the Archbishop of Canterbury.

  Poor old Arundel, he looked as though he was not long for this world. He had lived through many hazards, had suffered exile and seen his brother the Earl executed as traitor to King Richard. A long life during which the King believed the Archbishop had tried to live by his principles. He loved extravagance of course; and he wholeheartedly supported the pomp and grandeur of the Church and was therefore naturally an arch-enemy of the Lollards.

  And now here he was to give his assurance that Henry’s claim to the throne of France was no false one.

  ‘We have already made our feelings on that matter clear to the French,’ said Henry.

  ‘And, my lord,’ his uncle Exeter reminded him, ‘they laugh at us.’

  ‘Let them laugh while they may. I promise you all that we shall be the ones who are laughing when the crown is set upon my head.’

  ‘There will be many a battle before that happy day,’ pointed out his uncle.

  Henry laid his hand on his shoulder. ‘You think this the dream of a wild youth,’ he said. ‘I know your mind, Uncle. But think, my great-grandfather had this dream too and he was not a wild youth. He was a warrior before whom all men bent the knee.’

  ‘It is said, my lord, that he was urged into the endeavour by a rash vow he took on a heron.’

  ‘But heron or no heron, he made every effort to seize the crown of France.’

  ‘And did not succeed, my lord.’

  ‘He had ill luck. He grew old and his great son, the Black Prince, was stricken by ill health. I am young. I shall not cease until I have succeeded.’

  ‘Charles the Sixth will never willingly give up his crown.’

  ‘Well, that is something we understand. Poor mad old man. He is beset on all sides. Burgundy would be with us.’

  ‘It is not likely that a King of France will give up his crown without a struggle. Moreover there is the Dauphin.’

  The King snapped his fingers. ‘Louis is a braggart and a very pretty one, I believe. He will make sure his linen is well scented before he goes into battle. He would be wise to accept our latest terms: Charles to remain in nominal possession of the throne until his death. That is very fair, very reasonable. England to be no longer the vassal of France for the provinces of Normandy, Maine, Anjou and Aquitaine. The ransom for King John who was captured by the Black Prince and kept prisoner here in London for a while has never been paid. Is it asking much that this should now be honoured? The King of France shall give his youngest daughter Katherine to be my Queen and she shall bring with her a dowry of two million crowns.’

  ‘They will never agree to those terms,’ said Exeter.

  ‘But they fear us,’ insisted the King. ‘Yes, they fear us. It is the crown I want and by God’s help I will attain it . . .’

  The purpose of this meeting was to receive the French ambassadors and these were brought in that Henry might tell them his will before all assembled.

  He spoke clearly and witheringly: ‘I little esteem your French money,’ he said, ‘and less so your power and strength. I know full well my rights to the crown which has been usurped. The usurper, your master, may have loving subjects who will rally to his cause. I thank God I am not unstored with the same. And I tell you this, before a year has passed I shall make the highest crown of your country stoop before me and the proudest mitre to have his humiliation. In the meantime tell this to the usurper your master, that within three months I shall enter France as into mine own true and lawful patrimony, acquiring the same not with bray of words but with deeds of men and dint of sword by the aid of God in whom I put my trust and confidence. You may depart safely to your own country where I trust sooner to visit you than you shall have cause to bid me welcome.’

  The Frenchmen looked astounded by this speech; but they bowed and took their leave.

  When they had gone all eyes were on the King.

  ‘Bold words, my lord,’ said Bedford.

  ‘Bold deeds should be preceded by bold words, brother. You will see that I meant every one of them. We shall now make our preparations.’

  ‘Charles will be shivering in his shoes,’ said Exeter. ‘I wonder what the Dauphin will have to say.’

  The Dauphin’s reply came within a few weeks.

  The King was in his ante-chamber with his brothers and counsellors when the ambassadors from France arrived. They brought with them a barrel which was carried in and placed at the King’s feet.

  ‘What is this?’ asked the King.

  ‘The Dauphin’s gift to you, my lord.’

  The King laughed. Did the foolish fop think he could placate the King of England with gifts!

  ‘He has sent these treasures to you, my lord, with the assurance that they will please you mightily. He knows your nature and he applied this knowledge when selecting a treasure which would be considered most suited to your taste.’

  ‘We should not be affected by it were it ever so much to our liking,’ said the King. ‘But let us see what my lord Dauphin knows of my tastes.’

  He was smiling when the barrel was opened. There was a gasp of astonishment when the King put in his hand and brought out a tennis ball.

  ‘God’s truth,’ he cried. ‘The barrel is full of them.’

  The ambassadors lowered their heads to hide their smiles.

  ‘Our master believed these would please you, my lord,’ said one. ‘His message is that he is sure you will use them with more skill than you could bring to sword and lance.’

  Henry was silent for a few moments. His face was a deeper shade of pink than usual.

  Then he said in a loud clear voice: ‘Go t
ell your master that when I have set my rackets against these balls I shall drive them so hard that they will batter open the gates of Paris.’

  ‘So be it,’ cried those standing by; and the ambassadors retired discomfited.

  ‘My lord Dauphin has spoken,’ said the King. ‘Now we shall lose no more time. Let us prepare to carry the war into France.’

  Henry threw himself fervently into making ready to leave. The people were with him. He was popular. He was young; he was handsome; he had shown in his youth that he was no saint; he was a man of the people.

  ‘We’ll go with Harry,’ they said.

  The rich men of the country rallied round. They brought him gifts which could be converted into money; the poor could only bring themselves which they did to join his army. They were all excited by the expedition into France. They had no doubt of its success and they talked of the spoils that would come their way. France was a rich country. It was not like making war on Wales or Scotland or Ireland. There would be rich profits for those who went foraging with Harry of England.

  All the greatest nobles in the land pledged themselves to serve with their followers for a year. Henry announced that for their services they would be paid, for a Duke thirteen shillings and fourpence a day; for an Earl six shillings and eightpence; for a baron or baronet three shillings and fourpence, a knight two shillings, an esquire one shilling, and an archer sixpence. Any prisoners taken were to belong to their captors and to them would go the ransom demanded when it was paid. There were clearly pickings to be had.

  With the expedition the King was taking his physician, Nicholas Colnet, and his surgeon, Thomas Morstede, and they were to be paid twelve pence a day and be given a guard of three archers.

  The army was growing in strength; there were six thousand men at arms and twenty-four thousand archers.

  During these preparations Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, had a stroke. He was unable to speak. It was said of him that this was God’s punishment for having tied up the word of God in the mouths of preachers.

  ‘Poor old man,’ said Henry. ‘He will not be sorry to go.’

  But he had no time to grieve for his Archbishop. His thoughts were with his army. Henry Chicheley was appointed in Arundel’s place and Henry was pleased with his new Archbishop for he was a man who gave wholehearted support to the prosecution of the war.

  Henry, determined to make sure that no important detail should be missed, himself proceeded to Southampton to watch the loading of stores.

  The expedition was ready to leave within a few days when a plot was revealed to him. It was the intention of the plotters to take over the country while he was away and set up in his place the Earl of March – whom many people believed to be the true heir to the throne.

  One of the servants of Richard Earl of Cambridge was discovered with letters from his master to Lord Henry Scrope of Mersham.

  When the King read these letters he was filled not only with rage but with horror because Henry Scrope had been one of his closest companions since his accession to the throne. He had trusted him with missions abroad; only recently he had travelled with Henry Chicheley before the latter had become Archbishop, on a very confidential mission to the Duke of Burgundy.

  ‘Whom can one trust!’ cried Henry. And to discover such duplicity just as he was about to set out for France was unnerving. Who will betray me next? he wondered. Is it safe to leave my kingdom when those I believed to be my truest friends are in truth my enemies?

  This was the shadow which had pursued his father. Always he had feared that someone would try to set up the Earl of March in his place or discover that Richard still lived. He himself would refuse to be haunted by such fears. He would soon add the crown of France to that of England and no one was going to deny his rights.

  He could see how Scrope had been drawn into this – Scrope and Cambridge! Scrope had married Cambridge’s stepmother as his second wife; and Cambridge was married to the sister of the Earl of March. Cambridge, himself royal being the second son of Edmund Langley who was a son of Edward the Third, would reckon his son to be in line for the throne. These marriages . . . these royal lines . . . they gave people ideas!

  Prompt action was needed to deal with the matter. Conspiracies were always dangerous but one could not have come at a worse time than this.

  He sent for Scrope. Good honest Scrope; so he had thought – and all the time a traitor to him!

  ‘Ah, Henry,’ he said. ‘I am glad you came so promptly.’

  ‘My lord, I am always at your service.’

  ‘Except,’ replied the King, ‘when you serve my enemies.’

  He was watching his one-time friend closely, hoping to detect in his face a sign of innocence.

  But Scrope had flushed scarlet and Henry saw the fear leap into his eyes.

  ‘Charming letters your friend Cambridge writes to you,’ said Henry.

  ‘I understand you not, my lord.’

  ‘Enough, traitor. I have read the correspondence between you two. So you would put March on the throne, eh? But first you must rid yourselves of me. Who was to be the assassin? You, mayhap. You have gained yourself easy access to me with your false protestations of friendship.’

  Scrope was silent.

  ‘Tell me the truth,’ thundered the King, ‘for by God’s own truth I swear I will have it from you.’

  ‘There is a conspiracy, my lord.’

  ‘That is already clear to me. And you are involved in it.’

  ‘For the purpose of discovering when the conspirators meant to strike.’

  ‘Oh come, Scrope, you will have to do better than that. My kinsman Cambridge, eh? He wants his wife’s brother on the throne. And if he should die, well then Anne of Cambridge has a son who could well take the crown, is that it? Is Cambridge’s plan to set up March and then have another little conspiracy; remove March and set up Cambridge’s boy in his place?’

  ‘My lord, the plan was to make the Earl of March the King. Though there are some who say that Richard still lives.’

  ‘Not that old story again!’

  ‘Few believe it.’ Scrope seemed anxious to talk as though by so doing he could convince the King that he had joined the conspiracy only to betray it in due course.

  Henry listened with scornful lips and a sadness in his heart. It hurt him to see Scrope flounder, betraying his fellow traitors in an attempt to save himself.

  He called to his guards and cried: ‘Take him away. Keep him your prisoner. If he escapes you will answer to me.’

  Scrope was dragged away still protesting his innocence.

  His brothers came to him for they had heard that Scrope was arrested. He told them what he had discovered. They were horrified.

  ‘I shall act promptly,’ said Henry. ‘This is no time for delay. They shall have a trial today and if they are found guilty shall be despatched immediately.’

  ‘They should be made an example of. The traitor’s death should be accorded them.’

  ‘I want them out of my way,’ said the King. ‘That will be enough. God is on our side for had this not been discovered now we could have lost our throne.’

  The facts were soon brought to light. The plan was to assert the claims of York against those of Lancaster. Henry was to be assassinated and the Earl of March set on the throne. A man had appeared in Scotland calling himself Thomas of Trumpyngton who declared he was in fact King Richard who had escaped from Pontefract. It seemed pretty clear that he was a madman who was not the first to be obsessed by this idea but the conspirators promised to test his claim. Anything which would help in the fight to rid the country of Henry would be considered. But the main idea was to put the Earl of March on the throne. They planned to conduct the Earl to the Welsh border, where they could be sure of support, and proclaim him King. The Percys could be relied on to hold the north against Henry.

  It was indeed a well-laid plot; and, said Henry, there was only one way to act.

  He was convinced that his
cousin the Earl of March was innocent. He was merely to be used as the figurehead but there was no doubt whatever of the guilt of Cambridge, Scrope and Thomas Grey of Heton.

  They were condemned and deprived of their heads without delay.

  The conspiracy had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion.

  Now for France.

  On a hot August day Henry set out for France with six thousand men at arms and twenty-four thousand archers. They travelled in fifteen hundred vessels.

  He immediately attacked Harfleur. The town was ill equipped to stand out against him; and the governor in desperation sent messengers to the King of France telling him that unless he sent relief within a month he would have no alternative but to surrender.

  No help came and Harfleur, to Henry’s jubilation, fell into English hands.

  ‘This is a good beginning,’ cried Henry, ‘an omen. I shall fortify this town and make it into another Calais. Then we shall have two ports of entrance to France.’

  He set about consolidating his position. He wanted the inhabitants of Harfleur to leave the town to his men and he ordered them to take as much baggage as they could carry after they had sworn on God’s name that they would not take part in the war, and surrender themselves to the governor of Calais.

  ‘My lord, do you think they will obey that order?’ asked his brother Bedford.

  ‘It matters little if they do not, brother. I wish to be rid of them and populate this town with English men and women.’

  It was a resounding initial success, but alas it was soon seen to be less glorious than had at first been believed for an epidemic of dysentery soon appeared among the soldiers and within a matter of days two thousand of them were dead. That was not all, for if he had not taken some action more would have died. He saw that there was only one course to be taken and that was to send back to England those who were growing too weak to be of use.