Henry himself had always been more interested in books than the warlike arts, and this made a bond between them, I supposed. However, I heard that Gloucester’s tuition was very well received by the King and that the friendship between him and his uncle was growing because of this.
I was sure I was not the only one who was made uneasy by this disclosure.
I was heavy with child; in fact, I was expecting my confinement to begin very shortly, when a message came that Cardinal Beaufort and the Earl of Warwick were on their way to Hadham.
There was panic.
We had faced such a dilemma before, but then I had not been so far gone in pregnancy. Now it would be impossible to hide it. What could we do? Could we say I was ill? They would want to see me. If I were too ill to see them, that would mean that I was very ill indeed and that doctors would most certainly be sent.
There was only one thing to do. I must receive them. They must be told I was ill. I hoped to be able to conceal my condition and get rid of them as soon as possible.
“You must be in bed, of course,” said Guillemote. “You could be propped up with pillows…and we will tell them that they must not exhaust you.”
“What if they talk of sending doctors?”
“We will tell them that you have your own physician and that all you need is rest.”
It was a difficult ordeal. I was afraid my pains would start before they arrived or, even worse, when they were here.
They sat by my bed—the Earl of Warwick and the Cardinal—and they expressed great concern for my indisposition. I told them that all I needed was rest. I had had these bouts before and knew how to deal with them—which was true enough.
The reason they had come was that they were anxious about the King, who was becoming more and more influenced by the Duke of Gloucester.
“The King is serious for his years,” said the Cardinal. “He has made a good impression whenever he has appeared in Parliament. He listens gravely to the speeches and—amazing in one so young—can add his contribution with remarkable intelligence. Had it not been for the Duke of Gloucester’s prompting, it would not have occurred to him that he wanted to govern…alone.”
“Govern alone! Surely not!”
“Surely not indeed, my lady,” said Warwick. “The King has always been a modest boy…aware of his youth and the drawbacks it presents, but under the tutelage of the Duke, alas, he has changed.”
I felt the child move within me. Not yet, little one, I begged. Wait just awhile…not yet.
“It must be impressed upon him,” said the Cardinal, “that he is not yet of an age to govern, that he must pay attention to all his advisers and not listen exclusively to one.”
“That one being the Duke of Gloucester,” I added.
“A man’s knowledge of Latin literature does not give him understanding of the skills of government nor the arts of war. What we have to do is impress on the King that he is too young as yet to take his place as ruler.”
“I think he must understand that well.”
“It is difficult for us, my lady, to tell him this…particularly when the Duke of Gloucester is telling him otherwise.”
“Could not the Parliament explain to him?” I asked.
“They must indeed do so. But he is the King, and they are reluctant to tell him he is unprepared for this great task. He would listen to you. You are his mother, and you can talk to him…mother to son…not as subject to king.”
“I see,” I said.
“So we have come to lay the situation before you. We believe Your Grace could do much good by having a word with the King. He will listen to you…his mother.”
“I will speak to him,” I said.
“Thank you, my lady, and it would be well if there was as little delay as possible.”
“I will see him as soon as I am well,” I promised him.
“I doubt not that, if the King knew you were unwell, he would be happy to visit you here at Hadham.”
“I would rather wait until I feel better. I assure you that, as soon as I am, I will visit him …”
I thought they would never go. The Cardinal must always stand on ceremony, and I supposed he thought it would be impolite to depart the moment he had secured what he had come for.
There was great relief as they rode away. Guillemote with the Joannas and Agnes stood at the window watching them.
Until they were out of sight we were ill at ease.
We had been fortunate again, for a few hours after they had gone my pains started.
Little Owen was born that day.
As soon as the child was safely delivered, we had to think of the difficult situation in which we had been placed. I could not leave my bed, yet if I did not, Henry might come to me. And Henry would not come alone. There would be at least a bodyguard with him—and some attendants…a few perhaps, in view of the fact that he was coming to a small place like Hadham.
Owen thought of all sorts of possibilities. Could I travel in a litter? What of the child? I could not leave him. And if Henry came to Hadham, what of Edmund, Jasper and Jacina? How could we keep them hidden?
We had managed successfully all these years to keep our marriage secret. That was because we had taken great care and had been surrounded by loyal friends and servants; but we had never faced a situation like this before. It had been comparatively simple to deceive the Cardinal and the Earl who came with four or five attendants and had not stayed for more than a few hours. But a visit from the King…that was quite another matter.
Guillemote was one of the most practical people I had ever known. She set about finding a wet nurse in the village and when this was done the way was clear. She, Agnes and Joannas Troutbeck and Belknap would go to Hatfield with all the children, where they would stay until the King’s visit was over.
I would keep to my bed; and as soon as the King had departed, they would return.
The more we considered it, the more it seemed the only possible solution.
Owen would remain at Hadham with Joanna Courcy and the other members of the household.
Henry would be with a hunting party, and we had word that he would call to see me as he had heard that I was unwell. It was a relief that they would not be expecting to stay at Hadham, for the house was too small to accommodate a party of any size. Owen’s great fear was that some members of the party might wander into the nearby village and perhaps pick up a little gossip. That seemed hardly likely, I said, for we had always been so careful to keep the secrets of our household inviolate.
The wet nurse was a healthy young country girl who had been delivered of a male child at the same time as Owen had been born; she had enough milk in her ample breasts to feed two babies.
I felt a terrible sense of foreboding as I lay in bed listening to the sound of their departure. To Edmund, Jasper and Jacina it was an adventure, and they had their beloved Guillemote with them, so they were happy.
Owen came and sat by my bed. He took my hand and felt the pulse at my wrist. “Your heart is pounding,” he said.
“Owen,” I said, “I am afraid.”
“It will be all right. The children will be safe with Guillemote.”
“But to have to send them away…secretly. Sometimes I am very much afraid…as now.”
“We always knew there would be difficulties, Katherine.”
I nodded.
“And yet we did it. Was it worth it?”
“Completely. But how I long for a peaceful life…an ordinary life…the sort of life which comes so naturally to others.”
“All have their difficulties, my love. And we must face ours. And whatever happens, we must remember this: it was all worthwhile.”
“It seems wrong that we should have to pretend that that which means everything in the world to us does not exist.”
“As long as we know it exists, it does not matter.”