‘That it is tantamount to saying goodbye to the crown of France.’
‘So say I. But we have married our King to a French Princess, have we not, and this is the price asked for her. The price of peace and Margaret.’
‘We already have her. Maine is for peace.’
The two men fell silent, then Gloucester said: ‘Our little Queen is very partial to Suffolk.’
‘She would be. She looks upon him as the maker of her marriage.’
‘Very fond of Suffolk.’
‘And his wife.’
‘But particularly Suffolk.’
‘You don’t mean...?’
‘Why not? She is young and lusty and I doubt Henry can give a good account of himself.’
‘Nay...Suffolk is devoted to Alice Chaucer and Alice is Margaret’s dear friend.’
‘What has that to do with the matter? This devotion to Suffolk can be for only one reason.’
‘Suffolk is an old man.’
‘Some girls like a little maturity, particularly when they are saddled with a young boy.’
‘The King is hardly that.’
‘In manners he is.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘How explain this devotion then?’
‘Well, he brought her over. He arranged her marriage. He was the first Englishman she had contact with...He and the Cardinal. She is devoted to the Cardinal too.’
‘I believe there is a special relationship between Suffolk and Margaret.’
York shrugged his shoulders. He was a little impatient. Gloucester had always been a fool, always plunging into wild adventures. Now he was letting his imagination run away with him.
Nevertheless within a very short time the scandal was being whispered in the taverns. ‘Have you heard...? Well, it must be true. I heard it from someone at Court. Yes...the Queen and whom do you think...Suffolk!’
The Queen Suffolk’s mistress! It was incredible. Could it be believed? She looked so young and innocent. ‘But,’ it was said, ‘you know the French. After all she is French. She is one with the enemy.’
‘They say the French are demanding that we give up all King Henry gained. He would turn in his grave.’
‘But we won’t. We can’t. The Duke of Gloucester will see to that.’
The people were becoming convinced that something had been arranged while the French Embassy was in London, and it was being kept from them.
The Queen was persuading the King to agree to the French proposals. Of course she was. She was one of them. She was the enemy.
People no longer carried the daisy. Something was very wrong, and they blamed Margaret.
You could never trust the French, they said. Margaret’s brief popularity was at an end.
When Suffolk heard the rumours he knew without a doubt who had set them in motion. He was aware of the friendship between York and Gloucester. They were working up a case against him and the fact that they had brought Margaret’s name in showed clearly that they were trying to turn the King against him.
It was no use delaying. It was quite obvious that Maine would have to be given up. The Queen was persuading the King and the King wanted to please her and bring about peace.
It had to be. Suffolk would have agreed at once if he had not feared the effect on the people, knowing that they would make him the scapegoat. Gloucester would see to that. That he was already working his mischief was clear.
Suffolk came to see the King. It was not difficult to play on his fears, and he was always ready to believe the worst of Gloucester. That matter of the Duchess’s involvement with the Witch of Eye and the others had had a marked effect on Henry. He believed that one day his uncle would stage a coup, murder him and take the throne.
Therefore it was simple.
Gloucester had made a long speech in Parliament urging that the truce be violated. He was working up feeling against the French and that meant the King’s marriage.
‘You see. Sire,’ said Suffolk, ‘we have to take some action. We know well that he is in collusion with York. Gloucester at least may be plotting against your very person.’
‘It would not surprise me,’ said Henry. ‘His wife did it once and I believe he may well have been with her. He is waiting his chance to try again.’
‘Sire, in my opinion we should call him to face the Parliament and answer certain charges against him.’
The King hesitated. It was a pity that the Cardinal had retired to Waltham. He could go and see him, of course, but the old man was quite aloof from politics now.
Henry had to make his own decision.
‘Where is Gloucester now?’ he asked.
‘I have heard, my lord, that he is in Wales.’
‘In Wales? What would he be doing there?’
‘Stirring up trouble, doubtless. I have heard that he is getting together an army.’
‘To come against me! Oh, I am weary of this uncle of mine. He has been nothing but a menace for as long as I can remember.’
‘Bring him before Parliament and let him answer to the charges brought against him. Parliament will be meeting at
Bury on the tenth of February. Is it your wish, my lord, that Gloucester be summoned to attend?’
‘Yes,’ said the King, ‘that is my wish.’
So Gloucester was summoned to Bury to attend the Parliament and answer certain charges which would be brought against him.
Gloucester was dead. The country was stunned. They knew, of course, that he had been murdered. In the towns and the countryside they talked of it.
The news spread rapidly. He had been riding through Lavenham to Bury. Many had seen him—just the same as usual, splendidly dressed, smiling and acknowledging the cheers of the people, certain of his popularity. Many of them knew that he was something of a rogue but they liked his roguery. The King was a saint, they said. Everyone could not be that and saints were uncomfortable people. Yes, they liked a rogue and for all his debaucheries and follies Gloucester had kept his place in their hearts. His marriage to a woman who was humble compared with him, his devotion to her, was appealing. It persisted and even now he was trying to obtain her release. Yes, Gloucester was a popular figure.
And what had happened? Riding to Bury he had been intercepted by the King’s guard, ordered to return to his lodgings and after a few days it was announced that he was dead. He had fallen sick and died. The people simply did not believe that he had died from natural causes.
The weather was bad, of course—many people had died of cold—it had been the worst winter many remembered; the Thames had been frozen and so had almost every river in the country. The Duke had lived too well for the years not to have taken some toll of him. But sudden death? No.
The day after his death his body was exhibited. The lords and the knights of the Parliament and the people flocked to see it. There was no sign of foul play. There were dark hints about Edward the Second who had died mysteriously in Berkeley Castle. They had inserted a red hot poker into him, destroyed his internal organs, and there had been no sign of foul play on his body except that expression of agony on his cold, still face. It was all very well for his enemies to express their grief and send Gloucester’s body to be taken in pomp to St. Albans to be laid in the fair vault which had been prepared for him during his lifetime. It was not good enough. The people would not believe that he had died by natural causes.
Moreover the servants of his household had been arrested. They were accused of plotting to make Duke Humphrey King. Gloucester’s illegitimate son known as Arthur was arrested with them and he, including four others, was condemned to die the traitor’s death.
Henry was very unhappy. He could not help feeling relieved that that arch-troublemaker Gloucester had been removed but at the same time he hated the thought of men being subjected to the horrible traitors’ death.