by David Field
‘But...’ Henry began to object, before Jasper silenced him with a wave of his hand.
‘We are certainly on the north coast of Europe and once this place was ruled by the English Crown. But now it is a separate principality called Brittany, with its own Duke who has no love for the King of France. This township in which we sit is called Le Conquet and many miles inland is a town called Nantes, wherein resides Duke Francis, who will shortly send soldiers to arrest us for living so well at his expense, since I have instructed the landlord that the reckoning should be sent to the ducal palace. Now finish your meal and let us retire. If I am still not awake in three days time, you have my leave to kick me for signs of continued life.’
It was in fact just over a week before half a dozen heavily armed soldiers arrived in order to arrest Henry and Jasper and take them to the Duke’s palace at Nantes. They had at least paid them the courtesy of bringing spare horses and as they plodded through dense woodland just north of Pont-de-Buis late on the second day, Henry gave voice to his thoughts.
‘I have been giving our immediate future some serious attention. Assuming, for the moment, that this Duke Francis does not have us hung upside down for prevailing upon his hospitality and if, as you say, he is at odds with the French King, who you assure me is our friend, then will the Duke not simply hold us hostage for his own ends?’
Jasper smiled. ‘God be praised, you at last begin to display signs of statecraft! You are correct that you have just become an important bargaining counter in a dispute that is not of your making and even less to your interest, but if, as you say, the Duke is aware of your importance to the King of France, why would he have you killed immediately? More sensible, as you say, to hold you hostage. This is what I am hopeful will happen — if and when it does, be mindful to impress upon him the importance to you of having your own servant to attend you.’
Two days later, their small procession wound its way into Nantes, where they were escorted roughly into the presence of Duke Francis II, an elegant, feminine-looking man in his late thirties, who regarded them with a scowl as they knelt before him. He said something curtly to Henry, but it was Jasper who answered. A short conversation then ensued, following which Jasper turned to Henry.
‘He wishes to know why, if you are a king, you kneel to a mere duke.’
‘Tell him that I bow out of respect for his royal house, as a fellow royal.’
The Duke smiled and addressed Henry in his broken English. ‘You are a man trés diplomatique. Why travel you to my country?’
‘I am cruelly cast out from my own,’ Henry replied, ‘and I thank you for addressing me in English. Your English is better than my French. I would learn more of your language.’
‘It is possible,’ the Duke replied, ‘since you will be my — my — invitées?’ He looked enquiringly at Jasper.
‘Guests,’ Jasper supplied.
‘Oui,’ the Duke replied with a thin smile. ‘Your servant has better French than you,’ he observed to Henry, raising his hand in a signal for them both to rise to their feet. Then he turned and addressed a richly-dressed man to his left, who nodded and left the chamber. The Duke smiled at them. ‘I have given instruction that you shall come with us while we return to Vannes. Then we shall see where it is you are to be my guests. You are also, of course, my prisoners and should you seek to leave, my men will remove your heads from your bodies.’
VII
Almost a year after they had scrambled ashore at Le Conquet, Henry and Jasper were the guests of honour at the Chateau de Suscino, on the Atlantic coast south of Vannes. It was a castle in the old style, set in its own rural pastures in which Henry learned to hunt, as well as to fish in the nearby ocean. He learned to swim in a lake that lay beyond the ancient moat, but retained his fear of the ocean. There were endless banquets, since the ducal family used the chateau as a retreat from the dust and murk of the town and the combination of good food and healthy exercise resulted in a rapid height gain by the young Henry, who was now past sixteen, a handsome, slender youth, earning the admiring glances of the ladies-in-waiting who were forever in attendance on the Duchess Margaret.
Not only had Henry’s physique improved, so had his French, under the tutelage of a local clergyman who spoke excellent English himself and began to guide Henry through the finer points of his own native language. These lessons were far more enjoyable to Henry than the attempts by Jasper to pass on his skills with sword and battle-axe. The young King-in-waiting was well aware that someday he might be called upon to lead an army into battle in order to win the crown to which, he was slowly being convinced by Jasper, he was entitled, but he shrank from the thought of hacking limbs from a fellow man, or smashing in his head with an axe. Not only that, but violent exercise or sudden excitement seemed to bring on attacks of breathlessness that he had experienced since childhood. His chest was his weakest part, he knew, and it seemed to be his lungs that attracted the slightest infection, or refused to perform their function when he was under stress. He tried to explain this to Jasper, who shook his head in faint disbelief and reminded him that ‘it is traditional for every monarch to lead his men into battle.’
One day, as Henry was lunging half-heartedly at a target that had been set up in the meadow beyond the chateau walls, Jasper strolled over with a parchment in his hand. He had, once they had some sort of permanent accommodation, begun a course of correspondence with England and it was not unusual for him to keep Henry abreast of developments at home outside the hearing of any chateau spies who might have sufficient grasp of English to pass information back to the Duke.
‘Your mother has remarried, it would seem,’ he told Henry.
‘Another Yorkist?’ Henry asked.
‘What other kind of noble does England possess? And yet there may be hope. Your latest stepfather is Thomas Stanley, the Earl of Derby. He is one of the most powerful men in the realm, being descended in his own right from Edward I and also, by marriage, from Henry III. His first wife was Warwick’s sister, yet he holds vast estates in Lancashire and Cheshire and may well be well disposed towards the Lancastrian cause.’
‘If he is not already, my mother will make him so.’ Henry grinned.
‘Indeed, and your mother advises me that she is, by this marriage, invited back to Court, where she is once again close with the Queen Elizabeth.’
‘Is there aught else I have not been told?’ Henry enquired, ‘or is the future King of England dependent for his knowledge on his mother and his uncle?’
Jasper clapped his hands in sheer delight. ‘He calls himself “the future King of England”! May God be praised for giving the boy — at long last — a full realisation of his true destiny!’
‘A slip of the tongue merely.’ Henry blushed. ‘But since it would seem that all that you and my mother desire of me is to sit on the throne, I must, it would appear, meekly comply.’
‘Do nothing “meekly”, nephew, if you aspire to be King.’
‘Does this latest letter from my mother ask aught about her son? Such as his welfare, or his happiness?’ Henry demanded peevishly.
‘She asks if you have yet shown interest in those of the fair sex.’
‘And why might that be? Has she chosen me a bride also? A queen-in-waiting, to join me here in exile?’
‘If so, she says nothing of it,’ Jasper replied with a thoughtful stare across at the ocean. ‘But if I judge my brother’s widow correctly, she wishes me to add something to your education.’
Several days later, there was yet another banquet, on the feast day of some local saint who Henry had never heard of. The Duchess was there, with her full retinue of ladies-in-waiting in their brightly-coloured gowns and matching hairpieces, and Henry sat in his usual place of honour two places away from the Duke, with the Duchess to his left and Jasper on his right. Below them, on the lesser tables, sat the cream of the ducal Court, while jugglers and mummers moved between them, seeking to build up the party atmosphere before they moved to the top
table in search of gifts of coin.
‘Just look at that one in blue,’ Jasper whispered as he ogled the Ladies of the Court below them. ‘If she leans forward any further, her duckies will be in the soup.’
‘I think that the one in green is more comely,’ Henry responded over the top of his trencher. ‘The one with the long dark hair and the piercing green eyes.’
‘Each to their own,’ Jasper replied, not taking his eyes off the scene below them, ‘but the one you admire is almost certainly of pure Celtic stock. Mind me to dance with her and enquire.’
After the meal, the minstrels left their gallery and moved into the main hall for the dancing. Henry was a reluctant — and therefore a poor — dancer, but he could now manage a somewhat wooden quadrille, after considerable tuition from the chateau’s valet de dance, a post which, so far as Henry was aware, did not exist in English noble houses. He very gallantly partnered the Duchess in several such expeditions to the dance floor once the lower tables had been cleared by the pages. However, his habitual shortage of breath got the better of him in the end, unlike Jasper, who never seemed to miss an opportunity to lay hands on the waist of an elegant lady of the Court. During one dance Henry noticed Jasper with the girl in green that Henry had admired earlier and as they both looked in his direction the girl smiled and nodded, while Jasper nuzzled her neck.
Two hours later, Henry was lying in his bed when the chamber door opened and the girl in green slipped into the room, closing the door daintily behind her. She tiptoed to Henry’s bed and untied the cord that held her gown together in a bow around her neck, letting it slip to the floor. She was completely naked underneath and she smiled seductively down at Henry.
When there was no response from Henry, she pulled back the sheets and slipped into bed with him. She rolled on top of him and began rocking backwards and forwards as she straddled him.
‘Thank you, Uncle Jasper,’ Henry gasped to himself. ‘But don’t tell Mother this time!’
There were regular visits from Henry’s girl-in-green, who introduced herself as Eloise and one day Henry plucked up the courage to broach the subject with Jasper, who grinned.
‘It was ever part of the duties of a servant of the bedchamber to supply whores for the royal apartments.’
‘She’s not a whore, surely?’ Henry protested.
‘Think you that you were her first?’ Jasper smirked. ‘Her family presented her at the Duke’s court when she was a mere thirteen years old, since when she has, shall we say, been of much service to visiting dignitaries, whom she has serviced with considerable enthusiasm. I know because I made discreet enquiry before she came to you to ensure that she was not infected with the pox.’
‘You obviously know her well,’ said Henry suspiciously. ‘Have you also been one that she has “serviced”, as you put it?’
‘You forget that I am merely a servant of the royal household and therefore I must content myself with wenches from the kitchens and scullery, of which, I may say, there is a copious and pleasing supply. May I now inform your mother that you are aware of those of the opposite sex?’
‘Yes, but do not tell her how! What news is there from England?’
Jasper snorted. ‘It lies under a blanket of uneasy calm, although it may be that the royal brothers will come to blows ere long. Clarence had thought to wed the Warwick heiress, the Lady Anne Neville, but young Dickon whisked her away to a nunnery, from where he married her in July of last year, one hopes before she could take vows of chastity, since she is already with child.’
‘And the other York? King Edward?’
‘He grows fat, or so your mother says. He has also taken mistresses, to your mother’s disdain and to his queen’s considerable distress. You should also know that he has petitioned the King of France for your return to England. I have that from our host.’
‘And what else says he?’
Jasper sighed. ‘He is first and foremost a strategist and a diplomat. He cannot afford the arrival of French troops in Brittany, but even less can he contemplate the arrival of English warships on his coast. Both sovereigns are campaigning hard for your enforced company and King Louis of France has the stronger claim, since I am his cousin through the House of Valois, which makes you his second cousin. It is his argument that he has the stronger claim to the guardianship of his kinsman.’
‘Will he prevail, think you? And if he does, what will Louis do with us?’
‘With you, is the more apt question. There was a time when he would have supplied you with an army, in order that you might reclaim your throne, as he did with Margaret in the cause of the late King Henry. But that was only because Warwick and Edward threatened his ambitions over Burgundy. That threat no longer exists and Louis may feel safer leaving England as it is, rather than risk another hundred years of English knights trampling down his crops in Normandy.’
‘By the same token, if Edward threatens to invade Brittany in order to regain my person, might Duke Francis not be placed in a position in which it is easier simply to hand me over? And if he does, then what?’
Jasper looked sideways at his nephew with admiration in his eyes. ‘Your diplomatic senses have indeed sharpened while we have been enjoying this peaceful sojourn. I have advised Duke Francis that we are so content with his hospitality that we would fain enjoy it longer and that when you regain your throne, English troops will be available to aid the Breton cause.’
‘Since it is my throne that you have pledged and my troops that you have committed, perhaps it might have been more loyal had you consulted me first.’
Jasper chuckled. ‘By God, you are learning, boy! I see that I must look to my manners, else the first head you remove after your accession may well be mine.’
‘Uncle Jasper,’ Henry assured him, ‘I would fain cut off my own head before yours. I would not have survived from one year to the next without you, of this I remind myself daily, and when I regain my throne you shall enjoy the highest honour in the land. Below mine, of course.’
Two months later, Duke Francis settled for a compromise that resulted in Henry and Jasper being more closely confined, and officially categorised as prisoners. This seemed to satisfy both monarchs who were calling for their handing over, since King Edward of England could not openly admit that he only wanted Henry back for long enough to have him executed, while it suited King Louis of France to pretend that he had direct influence over the security of the Welsh upstart rather than have English forces cross the Channel to improve it. Francis, for his part, was enjoying his possession of someone who Louis wanted and who he could use as a piece on the chequer board should circumstances demand it.
So Henry and Jasper were not handed over, but neither did they remain together. Jasper was transported miles inland, behind the impregnable walls of the Chateau de Josselin, well beyond the possibility of any escape. He was kept in what amounted to little more than a luxurious prison cell and while there were strict orders issued that he was not be mistreated in any way, he was not to be allowed the same freedom he had enjoyed in Suscino.
As for Henry, he was hidden deep in woodland in the Chateau de Largoet, near the town of Elven, midway between Suscino and Josselin, north-east of Vannes. His gaoler this time was Jean, the lord of Rieux, whose grandfather had fought alongside Henry’s ancestor Owain Glyndwr in his rebellion against the English and though Henry’s prison chamber was in the massive Tour d’Elven, the highest dungeon in the nation at some one hundred and fifty feet above ground level, it had wonderful sea views. He was well treated and felt safe in his new accommodation high in the sky, until Duke Francis finally buckled under the pressure.
In the summer of 1476, the English envoys who had been besieging Francis with requests for the release of Henry into English custody, accompanied by increasingly large offers of bribes, all of which Francis had dismissed, finally adopted another ploy. The Duke’s honoured prisoner was not sought in England for a beheading, they assured the Duke, but in order that he might be res
tored to his rightful earldom, reunited with his mother who was now highly regarded at the English Court, and married to a Yorkist princess, in order that the two warring houses of Plantagenet might live in perpetual harmony. Even Henry’s mother, the Dowager Countess of Richmond, and more recently the Countess Stanley, believed what was being urged upon the Breton ruler who had Henry in safe custody.
Henry was escorted from the Chateau de Largoet to Vannes, where he was handed over to a group of English emissaries with a serious military escort and taken across country to the Channel port of St. Malo, with a view to being shipped back across the water.
It was here that Henry’s constitutional chest weakness came to his rescue — that and his morbid fear of the ocean following his stormy crossing from Tenby five years earlier. As he gazed, horrified, at the heaving seas beyond the harbour entrance, Henry suffered a seizure that rendered it difficult to breath. He fell to the ground, clutching at his throat and rasping hoarsely for breath, while those attending him called for a physician. The physician confirmed that this was no pretence, but a genuine malady, and the nonplussed envoys had Henry put to bed in an inn, where he slowly began to recover. By the time he did so, Duke Francis’s senior diplomat and adviser, Pierre Landais, had finally convinced his ruler that he had made a serious error of judgment, and had raced to St Malo with the sickening belief that he was too late.
But he was not. Henry was still in St. Malo, and in blooming health, and while an angry argument was raging in the street outside between Landais’s men and the English who had so nearly acquired the most valuable hostage in Europe, the object of their dispute slipped out of the inn and sought sanctuary in the local cathedral. He was rescued by the Breton party and taken back to Vannes, and a profuse apology from Duke Francis, who took special care to ensure that when Henry retired to one of the guest chambers, Eloise de Arradon was sent in shortly afterwards, to reinforce the apology in the way she was most able.