‘May I present to you, Lady Swynford, their governess?’
Catherine curtseyed and Constanza gave her a cold nod.
Then John with Henry’s hand in his and the girls on the other side of him passed on.
At the earliest possible moment he sent for her.
When she came to his apartments, he was shaking with emotion.
‘I wished to see you, Lady Swynford, to hear from your lips how my children have fared during my absence.’
‘All is well with them, my lord,’ she answered calmly. ‘They are in good health, as you see, and progress at their lessons. Henry’s riding masters will give you a good account of his conduct I am sure …’
He was not listening. He was watching her intently.
‘I have longed to see you,’ he said quietly. ‘You have changed little. It has been so long.’
She lowered her eyes.
‘I must see you … alone … where we can be together.’
She lifted her eyes to his. ‘Is it possible, my lord, now?’
Of course it had been different before. Blanche had been dead. He was a widower then. Now he was just returned with a new bride.
‘I married for state reasons,’ he said. And was amazed at himself. Why should he, the son of the King, explain his reasons to a governess?
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I know it.’
‘You have a husband,’ he said, as though excusing himself for not marrying her. What did she do to him? She made a different man of him. She unnerved him; she bewitched him. He believed that had she been free he would have married her.
If he had what bliss that would have been. No subterfuge, they could have been together night and day.
‘I must see you,’ he said.
‘When, my lord?’
‘You must come to my bedchamber.’
‘And the Duchess?’
‘I know not … but I will arrange something … I must. I yearn for you. I have ever since I left. There is no one like you, Catherine, no one … seeing you again, I know.’
She answered: ‘I know too.’
‘Then we must …’
‘But how, my lord? It will not be easy.’
‘But it must be. It must.’
She was right when she said it was not easy, but he contrived it. He had to. There was a small room in a part of the palace which was infrequently used. They met there.
There was a bed on which they made ecstatic love.
He thought of Constanza and the necessity to get her with child. He wished he had never let his ambition lead him into this marriage. The King of Castile. It was an empty title. It was one which Henry of Trastamare would never allow him to have.
It had been a reckless marriage. He should have remained free.
Suppose he had done so. Suppose Hugh Swynford died … Soldiers did die. They died like flies in hot countries. If it was not in battle it was in the fight with disease. Suppose he had married Catherine. How beautiful she would have looked in the robes of a duchess! How proud he would have been, and all the time they would have been together.
What mad dreams to come to an ambitious man. He could imagine the astonished fury of his father and of Edward. Edmund and Thomas would have been amused, though they did not count.
But he had married Constanza; he had become the King of Castile – and it might be a title that had some meaning some day; and these were wild foolish dreams which came to him only because he was in the thrall of an enchantress.
She was whispering to him now. ‘It will be necessary to be very careful.’
‘Careful. How can I be careful? I betray my feelings for you all the time.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you do.’
‘Then what am I to do?’
‘Go to Castile?’ she suggested.
‘Wherever I go,’ he said, ‘there must you be. I will not be without you so long again.’
And he lay there, knowing that his absence would be noticed; that hers would be too.
Surely it was only necessary to see them together to recognise this flame of passion which seemed as though it would consume them both.
Chapter V
THE BLACK PRINCE
The Black Prince came up from Berkhamsted to confer with the King. The Prince’s health had improved a little since his return to England but the periodic bouts of fever remained and when they came they were as debilitating as ever. He would lie in his bed frustrated and bitter. He had never really recovered from the death of his elder son and he worried continuously about Richard’s future.
At this time he was in one of his more healthy bouts and in spite of Joan’s attempts to dissuade him he insisted on going to Windsor.
The sight of the King shocked him as it did each time he saw him. Edward was growing a little more feeble every day, a little more doting on the ubiquitous Alice, and the image of the great King who had won the love and admiration of his people was becoming more and more dimmed.
The Prince thought: If he goes on like this the people will depose him. How much longer will they tolerate Alice Perrers? She behaves as though she is his chief minister and some inspired statesman instead of a rapacious woman, a harpy, just clinging to him for what she can get.
At the moment Aquitaine was the Prince’s concern.
‘I should never have left,’ he said. ‘John has made a great mistake.’
‘Well, he is King of Castile now.’
‘King of Castile,’ said the Prince contemptuously. ‘An empty title! How near is he to ever becoming the true King of Castile? What has this marriage done but brought Henry of Trastamare and the King of France closer together? They are allies now. Far from John’s reigning over Castile we shall find the French taking Poitou and Saintogne.’
‘You take too gloomy a view, my lord,’ said Alice.
The Prince felt ready to explode with fury. He deliberately ignored her and turned to his father. ‘It will be necessary to prepare ourselves. I can assure you that an attack will come before long. The French are not going to lose this advantage. I should have stayed.’
‘You were in no fit state to stay,’ said the King. ‘You are recovering now. You must wait until you are well.’
‘Yes,’ said the Prince bitterly, ‘wait until the French have robbed us of everything we possess. We must act without delay.’
‘The King will not go to France,’ said Alice sharply.
‘That is for the King to decide, Madam,’ retorted the Prince coldly. ‘My lord,’ he continued, turning to the King, ‘this is a matter of great importance. I think we should discuss it in private.’
‘We are in private, Edward,’ said the King.
The Prince raised his eyebrows and looked at Alice.
‘Alice is always with me. She understands what it is all about, do you not, Alice my love?’
‘I understand because it concerns you, my King,’ replied Alice smiling at him.
He is becoming senile, thought the Prince. What is going to happen? The French triumphant; myself sick; John, clever as he is, not a man to lead victorious armies, the King losing his wits and robbed of his strength by a harpy whose only thought is to feather her nest while the old man lives; my son Edward dead and a frail child all I have left! Oh God, what is happening to England? But a few years ago this great country was one of the most powerful in the world, ruled over by an able man. How in a few short years could God bring us so low!
I must regain my health. I must hold the Kingdom together before it is completely lost.
‘Then if we must discuss these matters vital to our country’s survival thus, I will send for John, for he should partake in our discussions.’
‘Yes, do send for John,’ said the King.