She had overheard something of that nature, it was certain.
‘No,’ he cried vehemently. ‘I want you just as you are.’
And as that was just what she had wanted to hear she was content.
She was very happy at Windsor. She had to do lessons, of course, but that was no hardship to her; she was bright and liked to amaze her teachers with her cleverness.
She delighted in the rich garments she wore. Richard used to spend hours with her and the seamstresses saying how her clothes should be cut and how embroidered.
He would clasp his hands together in an ecstasy of delight when she paraded before him in her fine garments. She liked to ride out with him and see the people crowd round and marvel at her.
‘The little darling!’ they would cry.
Richard would pretend to be jealous. ‘By St John the Baptist,’ he would cry, ‘I’ll swear they will depose me and make you their ruler.’
It was an enchanted life and she thought it would go on for ever. She could not be expected to know of the rumbling discontent which was brewing around her.
She was crowned with great pomp and ceremony at Westminster by the Archbishop of Canterbury and that seemed the very pinnacle of glory.
At Windsor she was put in charge of the Lady de Couci, a lively woman, the second wife of the Lord de Couci whom he had married after the death of that Isabella who was the daughter of Edward the Third and therefore aunt to the King.
There was little the Lady de Couci enjoyed as much as lavish spending and consequently the little Queen’s household was run on somewhat extravagant lines.
The Duchess of Lancaster, for whom the little Queen had taken a great fancy, visited Windsor and they were very happy occasions. But the most frequent visitor was the King who so often rode out to Windsor and there they would play music together, dance a measure and he would read to her, sitting in the window seat with her curled up beside him.
He was eager for her comfort. When the winter set in there must be fur-lined garments for her and fur covers for her bed. He could not have his little darling uncomfortable. As she so loved pageants he constantly contrived them for her.
They lived very lavishly. She had brought a good dowry with her from France but even that would not last indefinitely.
Chapter XV
THE KING’S REVENGE
The Duke of Gloucester was fuming in secret. He was often I with those other discontented people, the Earl of Arundel and the Earl of Warwick.
It seemed to Gloucester that everything was going against him; Arundel and Warwick were almost equally disgruntled. Arundel was prodded by his Countess who continued incensed by the acceptance of Catherine Swynford at Court and Warwick because a case in which he was involved with the Earl of Nottingham concerning some land had been decided against him.
Gloucester was intent on action. He could see himself being displaced and denied that goal on which he had set his heart. What he wanted more than anything was to step into the King’s shoes. But how could this be? There were too many ahead of him.
He had been against the French marriage, and the only joy in that for him was that the Queen was too young to provide an heir. Richard was now on very good terms with Lancaster. Not only had he accepted the Duchess at Court and given her access to the Queen who had grown very fond of her, but he had legitimised all the Beaufort bastards.
Of the two eldest sons John Beaufort was made Earl of Somerset and Richard promised that he should in due course come to the office of Admiral. Henry, who had shown signs of more than average cleverness, was to go into the Church. He was only in his teens as yet but as soon as possible a bishopric should be found for him. Richard had assured his uncle that the other Beauforts should receive like honours when the time came.
This was very gratifying to Lancaster who had settled into a happy life of maturity. He was behind the King but was discreet enough not to impose too much of his will.
If only Gloucester had been the same.
But Gloucester was bent on mischief. How much longer, he demanded, was the country going to accept Richard’s ineffectual rule? He had made this peace with France and saddled himself with a child who could not produce an heir for years; he had frittered away her dowry. He was useless and the sooner he was deposed and someone else wore the crown the better.
The King had named Roger de Mortimer, Earl of March, as his heir if he should die without a child of his own body to follow him, and Roger, who was a son of Philippa the daughter of Lionel who was the second son of Edward the Third coming after the Black Prince, was accepted generally as the next in line of succession.
Thomas who could never wait patiently for events to happen sought out Roger to sound him, for it seemed to him that Roger would make a good figure-head.
It was a great mistake, he quickly realised.
Roger was a young man who had been brought up to believe that he owed his first loyalty to the crown. He was heavily committed to Ireland for Richard had some time before appointed him lord lieutenant of that turbulent country.
He was twenty years old, idealistic, eager to prove himself and when Gloucester told him what he had in mind he was not only astounded but horrified.
‘My dear Roger,’ said Gloucester, ‘you are heir to the throne. Depend upon it, we cannot wait for the time to come when it shall fall naturally to you.’
Roger was bewildered. ‘What does this mean?’ he asked.
The boy was a simpleton, thought Gloucester. Was it not obvious?
‘An army would follow you,’ persisted Gloucester. ‘You are beloved of the people. They are weary of Richard’s feeble rule. His extravagances must be stemmed or the country will suffer.’
Roger still said nothing; he was too bewildered for speech. What was Gloucester suggesting? Revolution? War? And against the King!
‘An army would rally to your banner. We should secure the King and his French wife and they would be kept in confinement till Richard agreed to resign his crown. We should have to seize my brothers Lancaster and York. But that should not be difficult. You are so pale. Why so? I tell you this plan cannot fail.’
‘This … this is treason!’ stammered Mortimer.
Gloucester seized his arms and glared into his face.
‘You mean you would not join us?’
‘I would not take up arms against the King. That is treason.’
Gloucester then realised that he had made one of the biggest blunders of his life. If Roger de Mortimer reported what he had suggested that would be the end of him.
‘By God,’ he said, ‘you are a man who does not know what is good for him.’
‘I know, my lord Gloucester, that no good could come to me if I were a traitor to the King.’
Gloucester’s hand was on his sword. Kill him. It was the only way. He had betrayed his schemes to this young man and if he went to the King …
Still, Richard could not be victorious. There was too much against him.
‘You shall not whisper a word of this to any,’ cried Gloucester.
‘Heads would fall if I did,’ replied Roger.
‘Aye. And yours would not be too safe.’
‘I have spoken no treason.’
‘There would be those to say you had shared in the plot.’
The young man was disturbed. There was no doubt about that.
‘Listen to me,’ said Gloucester. ‘You are not with us. But it will go ill for you as with us if you breathe a word of what I have said to you.’
Roger understood that. He was thoughtful and Gloucester went on: ‘Say nothing of what you have heard. It is the best way.’
Roger nodded. Of course it was the best way. It was the only way.