So at Christmas while he feasted and joked with his friends and danced and watched the mummers, his thoughts were of war. Plans were forming in his mind. He must go on. It would be foolish not to follow up the victory while the French were in such a low state and the English intoxicated by victory.
The new Archbishop Chicheley was growing fanatical about the Lollards and was pursuing them relentlessly. The King often thought of John Oldcastle and wondered where he was hiding himself. How much more satisfactory it would be if he were to come and fight with his King. There were few better soldiers.
If he would come back and fight with me, thought the King, all this Lollardry would be forgotten.
But John did not come. He remained in hiding, no doubt plotting. He was as fixed in his determination to uphold the Lollards as Henry was to gain the crown of France.
Henry must raise money and continue. He was wasting time here.
The people were with him. They wanted more conquests. They were looking forward to prosperity and the end of the war with France and their King firmly established on that throne.
They were living now in the euphoria of great victory. Life seemed more prosperous. It was not, but it seemed so and thought Henry with a certain amount of cynicism, one that was as good as the truth until they woke up to reality. He had ordered that the streets of Holborn be paved. This had never been done before and the Lord Mayor of London, Sir Henry Burton, had brought in improvements to the streets of London by hanging lanthorns which were kept burning throughout the night.
The people were grateful. They loved their King.
But it was the eternal cry of Money. Money to pay the soldiers, money to pay for the arrows and all the weapons of war. Money for the food they would need. Money! Money!
The King rode to Havering to see his stepmother. She greeted him with affection and he talked to her of his plans.
She listened, feigning an enthusiasm which she could not feel. Her family were on the opposing side. It was an irritation between them. How could he boast to her of the glories of Agincourt when that battle had brought disaster for so many members of her family?
The affection he had hitherto felt towards her was tinged with a mild dislike.
She had come to England as his father's second wife and grown rich here. He had heard it said that she was one of the richest women in the country, but like many rich people who had taken delight in garnering their wealth, she was rather loth to part with it.
"My son visited me here," she said.
"I know," he answered. "I gave orders that he should be allowed to do so."
"Thank you, my lord. It was good of you. Your goodness makes me venture to ask if I might see him again."
"My lady, he is a prisoner. He is your son but he is also a traitor. We cannot allow traitors to roam freely about our land. That would be folly, you must realize."
She was silent.
"I intend to carry on the war in France until I have brought it to a satisfactory conclusion," he went on. "I should be there now ... but first I have to build up stores, equipment, pay my soldiers and so much more."
"War is a costly business in treasure and more tragically in blood," said Joanna sombrely.
"So we have seen. Madam," said the King. "But my cause is just and I am determined on victory. I need money."
Her eyes strayed round the chamber. She lived well. She liked luxury. She was indeed a very rich woman.
"I am relying on those who love me and a just cause to come forward with their offerings," he said.
She nodded.
"I have always looked upon you as a friend."
"I will ask my treasurer what can be supplied," she said cautiously; she was already making plans to have the finest of her treasures placed in great chests and hidden in the vaults. "I have given much to the poor," she went on. "I am not as rich as I once was."
You lie, he thought. My God, the woman is on the side of the French. She is all ready to turn traitor, as her son was.
He took his leave shortly. He was in a resentful mood. She amassed wealth under my father, he thought, and she will not give up to me what I so desperately need.
As he rode away he said to his brother Bedford: "I do not trust the Queen."
Bedford replied: "I was talking to John Randolf her confessor. He says she is in constant private talk with those two sorcerers Colles and Brocart. He does not like them nor their influence with the Queen."
"Does he think she practises their evil arts?"
"It is strange how she has become so rich."
The King frowned. "It might be that there is some sorcery in it," he replied.
He felt a sudden surge of anger against her. She had won her wealth through dabbling in dark arts then; and she was very reluctant to part with a penny of it.
His thoughts were occupied with how he could raise money.
"When he returned to London he had decided to pawn his crown and jewels. His uncle, the Bishop of Winchester, would advance him one hundred thousand marks for them; and he would sell a part of the royal jewels to the City of London for ten thousand pounds.
In the month of July two years after the battle of Agincourt Henry was ready to sail to France again. He left with twenty-six thousand men on board a fleet of one thousand five hundred ships.
He took among other strategic places, Caen and Falaise. But the war was not yet won.
John Oldcastle with his band of faithful followers had for four years been wandering in the Welsh mountains. During the summer they lived out of doors and would sit round a camp fire when darkness fell and talk of the days when they would establish their faith throughout England and bring a better life to many poor people. With the coming of winter there must be an end to this life which had an appeal for all of them; then they must find shelter by night in any inn or wayside cottage where someone would give them a place to lie down. All the day John was trying to recruit men to his banner; but it was amazing how difficult it was to arouse enthusiasm for battle even amongst the Welsh who like the Irish and Scots were usually ready to attack the English.
He heard news of Agincourt and it pleased him to know that Henry had won renown throughout the country.
Great Harry they called him affectionately and there was grudging admiration even from his enemies.
John smiled, recalling the braggart youth sprawling on his tavern chair drinking, eyeing the women, singing tavern songs. Those had been good days; but they could not have gone on for ever. Neither he nor Henry were of a kind to spend all their lives in riotous living, seeking their excitement in tavern brawls.
Somehow he had always known that there was more to both of them than that. Harry had found it in the quest for a crown; as soon as he had taken that alluring object in his hands, he had changed. As for John, he had changed too. His had been a yearning for spiritual matters. How strange that religion should have become the whole meaning of life to him.
He talked to his followers and all who would listen. He had always been an eloquent talker. That was what had attracted Henry to him. Then he had used his quick wits to provoke laughter. It was different now.
All that mattered to him was that he should make men understand what was in his mind. There must be reforms in Church. Men must worship God, not the trappings of ceremony. All the money which was poured into maintaining the splendours of the Church should be used to improve the life of the villeins, he believed. He wanted a simple religion; he wanted spiritual humility and peace for men and a more dignified physical existence.
As poor Sawtre had said the cross was a piece of wood. Yes, a better piece of wood than others of its kind because Christ had died on it. But it was not to be worshipped as such. Salvation came not through the cross but from Christ who died on it.