‘God bless you,’ murmured Simon.
The Black Prince was carried in his litter from Berkhamsted to London.
When the people heard that he was on his way they thronged the streets to welcome him.
He was glad he was in his litter so that they could not see how swollen his body was with the dropsy which persisted and which had killed his mother. He smiled as he acknowledged their cheers and tried to look as though he were not in pain. Indeed, the exhilaration of their affection for him comforted him so much that he felt better for it.
He first went to the King. A sorry sight. He himself had to be carried in. What have we come to the Prince asked himself. Great Edward and his mighty son, the Black Prince, two decrepit old men, their glory long past. Are these the heroes who made Frenchmen tremble at their approach? If they could see us now, they would snap their fingers at us. They would be very saucy. And they had been. They had shown what they thought of an England which had lost its mighty leaders.
The King’s eyes were full of tears as he beheld his son.
‘I thank God,’ he said, ‘that your mother is not alive to see us thus.’
‘I thank God she is not alive to see who has usurped her place beside you.’
The Prince had always spoken frankly, and what had he to lose now?
‘Alice is my only comfort in these sad days,’ said the King.
‘My lord, when comfort has to be so dearly bought it is oft-times better to do without it.’
The King sighed and looked pathetic. ‘John understands,’ he said. ‘He and Alice are good friends now.’
‘And for a clear reason,’ said the Prince. ‘John it seems would be the friend of the devil if by so doing he could advance his ambition.’
‘My son, let us talk of more pleasant matters.’
‘We must talk of England, my lord. And that I’ll grant you is not the pleasant matter it once was.’
‘The old days … I think of them constantly. Do you know, Edward, sometimes I lie abed and I think I am young again … on the field. I’ll never forget Crécy. Oh what joy you gave me then.’
‘Past glories, my lord. They are behind us. What is to be done now? That is what I have come to ask. There are stories of bribery and corruption throughout the Court. Your leman Alice Perrers has dared to appear on the bench at Westminster and tell the judges how to act, which depends on what bribe she has received from the prisoner or his friends.’
‘Alice is a clever minx,’ said the King fondly.
‘My lord, think back, think to those days when you were a lion among your people. You would never have allowed such anomalies then. For God’s sake, Father, stop it before it is too late!’
‘If you have come here to try to persuade me to give up my only comfort in life you must go away, Edward.’
‘Your comfort! The whole country is appalled by your lechery.’
‘How dare you speak to me thus. I am your King!’
‘I will say what I feel. I am the heir to the throne and I will not see it sent tottering by imbecility and lechery.’
‘You must leave me, Edward. I had thought you had come to comfort me.’
‘There is only one comfort for you … so you have told me. This harlot is the one who knows how to provide it. What a confession for a great King to make! To think that you … you were once held up to me as a shining example of all that was great and noble in kingship … to think that you have come to this!’
The King was in tears. Poor senile old man! And the pain in the Prince’s body was beginning to throb, and torture him unbearably.
‘You must see John,’ muttered the King. ‘He will talk to you.’
The Prince shouted for his servants.
‘Take me to my apartments,’ he said. And he was thinking: No, I will not see John. I will see those who will help me to stifle John’s ambitions.
The Prince summoned Sir Peter de la Mare, the Speaker of the House of Commons, to his apartments in the palace and as soon as he arrived he came immediately to the point.
‘I have travelled from the country at great discomfort,’ said the Prince, ‘because I am suffering much disquiet at the manner in which the affairs of this country are being conducted. I am convinced that there are a few good men who deplore this state of affairs even as I do.’
‘That is so, my lord.’
‘You need not hesitate to speak frankly to me because what you have to say might be disloyal to members of my family,’ went on the Prince. ‘Speak freely. Nothing you say shall be held against you and it would seem to me that on certain matters men such as you think as I do. But let us say this: It grows late but it may not be too late.’
‘Since you ask me, my lord Prince, to speak frankly, so will I do. The country is being ruined and the chief enemy is the King’s mistress. She has introduced bribery and corruption into the Court. She is an evil woman and no good can come to this country while she remains at the King’s side.’
‘And the Duke of Lancaster?’
De la Mare hesitated. It was one thing to speak against the King’s mistress but to speak against his son was quite different.
‘Come,’ said the Prince, ‘I have asked you to speak frankly.’
‘The Duke of Lancaster has become the friend of Alice Perrers, my lord, for the purpose I am sure of gaining influence with the King.’
The Prince nodded. ‘I see that we understand each other. My lord, we must act with speed. Would you be prepared to do so?’
‘With you behind me, my lord, yes, I would.’
‘Then you must move Parliament to act.’
‘That would not be difficult. The country is restive on account of excessive taxation and when it is considered that much of what is taken from them is bestowed on Alice Perrers, they are ready to revolt.’
‘Then go to it!’ said the Prince. ‘I see no reason why Alice Perrers should not be dismissed.’
‘There is Latimer, the King’s Chamberlain. He works closely for your brother. He is also responsible for the growth of bribery about the Court. I fear that nothing much can be done while he holds his position.’
‘Then Latimer must be deprived of his office. Summon the Parliament and attend to these matters.’
‘It means that we are going against John of Gaunt.’
‘It means that you are standing with the Black Prince.’
‘When they know that you are with them, my lord, methinks that will decide them.’
Sir Peter de la Mare left the Prince and went with all haste to his home that he might prepare his speech to the House of Commons.
The Prince lay on his bed. The pain had returned in full force. He was even more tormented by his thoughts.
Conflict in the family. It was always unwise, and now that the country was so weak it was a danger.
He had always known John was ambitious. What did he want?
The crown! Of course he wanted a crown. He had married Constanza of Castile for one and it was hardly likely that he would ever get it. No, his eyes were on the crown of England. And that was going to be planted firmly on the head of little Richard.
Oh God, prayed the Prince, let me live long enough to see my son safely come into his own.
Sir Peter de la Mare’s speech caused an uproar in the House of Commons. He was an eloquent man which was why he had risen to his present post and he was expressing sentiments which were applauded by the majority of them – those who were not the close friends and supporters of John of Gaunt.
The Black Prince was behind them. De la Mare had made that clear. The Prince might be a sick man but he was still a power in the land.