The Star of Lancaster - Plaidy Jean (читать книги онлайн полные версии txt) 📗

'My lord,' said one of the attendants, 'we should send at once for your physician.*

Henry lay back on his bed. He touched the horror on his face. He knew it was the same which had been appearing on his body. Now he could hide it no longer.

There was one word which kept coming to his mind. Leprosy! He had seen it on his travels. Oh God, he prayed, let this pass from me. Anything I will endure ... Take my crown from me ... Do anything ... but do not afflict me with this. Richard's death can be laid at my door, I know it. But it was for the good of the country. No, Lord, for the good of myself. Take this from me ... and ask anything of me ... and I will do it. I will bear it... but not... leprosy ...

He could not leave his chamber. He could not be seen like this. He wondered what would become of him, of the country. Harry was too young yet. He kept praying incoherently. He touched his face. He knew that he looked hideous ...

The doctors came. They gave him potions and unguents, and in a few days' time the terrible pustules had almost disappeared. His face was still discoloured and the surface of his skin rough; but he could at least emerge.

The success of defeating Northumberland had become bitter. He turned his attention now to Glendower. Harry was on the Welsh front. Henry thanked God that his son was becoming a great soldier. He was doing good work in Wales and had already brought about the defection of several important noblemen who had been supporting Glendower.

Harry was successful in regaining Harlech and in capturing Glendower's daughter and her Mortimer children after Sir Edmund had died in the siege.

The battle left Glendower without an army. He escaped but was still free to roam in his mountains and attempt to gather together a force. Henry, however, was confident that this would never amount to much more than an occasional skirmish. They would have to be watchful, nothing more.

The success was due to the brilliant leadership of young

Harry. He was a son to be proud of. He was growing up. He was old enough in experience if not in years to command an army.

Henry could have felt more at peace than he had since he took the throne if it had not been that he was constantly on the watch for the greatest enemy of all, of whose identity he was not sure but which he greatly feared could be that dread disease leprosy.

Harry must marry. The sooner the better. He must get sons to follow him. The Lancastrian side of the Plantagenet tree must be strengthened.

Isabella of France was still unmarried. It might well be that after all this time the child had got over her obsession with Richard. She might be ready to consider a match—or her family might which was more to the point. And why should her bridegroom not be the once rejected Harry of Monmouth?

ISABELLA

AT THE COURT FRANCE

OF

When Isabella had returned to France she had quickly realized that something was very wrong at her father's Court, and gradually she began to understand what it was.

Her father had bouts of madness. People did not at first talk about this to her. She just heard that he had attacks. These attacks could last for months and when they were in progress he would be shut up in the Hotel St Pol, that Paris residence where she had spent much of her childhood. When he recovered her father was just as she had always remembered him, kindly and seeming in full possession of his senses, but she detected a wariness in both him and the people around him and she knew they were watching for the madness to break out again.

There was her mother—beautiful, and forceful so that she seemed to be the real ruler of France, with Uncle Louis of course.

Louis Due d'Orleans, her father's brother, had been appointed by the King to be Regent during his bouts of madness. The Queen who had great influence with the King had advised this and sometimes it seemed to Isabella that her mother and her uncle wanted her father to fall into madness, for when he did Uncle Louis behaved as though he were the King and it was obvious to everyone—even young Isabella—

that Isabeau acted as though Louis was not only the King on the throne but in her bed as well. The fact was that this adulterous intrigue between Queen Isabeau and Due Louis of Orleans was becoming a scandal not only throughout France but beyond.

Then there was her father's uncle the Duke of Burgundy, a serious-minded man, who deplored what was happening and made no secret of this.

It was a very unhealthy state of affairs and Isabella yearned as much as ever for the happy days at Windsor when Richard had ridden out to see her and they had been so happy together.

*I shall never be happy again,* she mourned.

She did however enjoy being reunited with her family. There were her three brothers and three sisters; for recently a new baby girl had been born. She was named Katherine.

The little girls were lodged at the Hotel St Pol and no one bothered very much about them. When the King was ill he would be taken to a part of the Hotel and shut in there with a few attendants. Isabella would often lie awake and listen for the strange sounds which came from her father's apartments. She did what she could to look after the little girls for their nurses were not always careful and when Isabella told her mother this, the Queen said they should be dismissed but did nothing about it. She was too busy with her own affairs which mainly consisted of entertaining and being entertained by the Due d'Orleans. Isabella thought the Due the most handsome man she had ever seen and that her mother was the most beautiful woman. It seemed inevitable that they should be lovers. She wondered whether her father knew. Everyone else seemed to, so perhaps he did too.

It was a strange life for one who had been a Queen of England; she clung to her memories of her life with Richard. Isabella would hold little Katherine in her lap and the others would cluster round her while she told them stories of her life at the English Court; and always Richard would appear in these stories, the knight in shining armour.

Isabella kept her ears open and discovered much of what was happening at her father's Court. As soon as Uncle Louis had the power he had levied a tax on the clergy as well as the people which made them very angry. Some said: *We will not endure the rule of this profligate young man and his shameless concubine any longer.'

And the shameless concubine was Isabella's mother!

Oh, it was a very unhealthy state of affairs.

It was difficult not to like Uncle Louis—who besides being handsome, was always good-tempered and generous; he was amusing and there was always laughter where he was; his clothes were exquisite and he was notorious for his extravagance. He always treated Isabella as though he were very fond of her and when she had first come to France he had professed himself to be very angry at the manner in which Richard had been treated. It had given her great comfort at that time to hear Richard's praises sung and the usurper King of England vilified. *He and his son Harry, I hate them both,' she said. *And they tried to marry me to Harry. I would have none of him.'

Uncle Louis said. Indeed not! She was far too beautiful and too important. What, a daughter of the King of France to marry the son of an impostor! True he held the title of King at this time, but how long would that last?

1 will go and fight him on your behalf,' he declared.

*How can you. Uncle Louis?'

*By challenging him, my dear. He has plundered you of your dowry and he has murdered your husband. I shall challenge him to face me in the lists.*

*You would not do this, Uncle,' she breathed.

*I would indeed, my dear. I shall send a challenge to him without delay.'