The Star of Lancaster - Plaidy Jean - Страница 62

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Harry knelt before the King who stared at him in amazement, wondering what prank this might be, when Harry unsheathed the dagger he wore at his waist and presented it to the King.

'What means this, my son?* asked the King.

*I have been accused of disloyalty to you, my lord father. My enemies tell you I have used for my own pleasure funds which should uphold the port of Calais. My enemies slander me, which does not grieve me greatly in itself. All men worth their salt are slandered by those who fear their own weakness. But that I should be accused of disloyalty and a lack of affection towards my King and my own father, that I will not endure. My lord, if you believe these calumnies directed against me, plunge this dagger into my heart.'

'Take back your dagger,' said the King. *Do you think I would kill my own son?'

*He would wish you to do the deed, my lord, if you could believe for one moment these lies which are told about him.'

The King handed the dagger back to Harry.

Tut it in your belt/ he said. ' 'Tis where it belongs.'

*So you believe me to be your good son and loyal subject.'

1 will believe it,' said the King, 'until it is proved otherwise.'

'And this matter of the Calais funds?'

*We will dismiss it.'

'Nay,' said Harry. 'I would have my innocence proved.'

'Then proved it must be.'

'Father, I mean that I would rather you killed me than believe I am other than your loving son and subject.'

'Rise, my son. Let there be no more conflict between us. You are my heir. My first-born. We know it cannot be long before I depart this life. Let us, for the love of God, be good friends for that little time.'

'Amen,' said Harry.

He was well pleased; he had discountenanced his enemies.

Christmas was celebrated at Eltham in Kent, one of the King's favourite palaces with its thick walls and buttresses. Many tragedies had been played out in it. And now he had come here to spend his Christmas and with him was Joanna, one of the few people he allowed to come near him.

She knew the worst. Poor Joanna, who had come to England from the gardens of forget-me-nots and found life had turned out to be very different from what they had imagined it would be when they had walked together in those gardens, not speaking of their hopes and being so happy when they materialized, until they found that life was cruel.

The cherished crown was an empty bauble bringing him nothing but care and disappointment; his once splendid body was betraying him.

He was a sick and sad old man.

In the great hall the revelries persisted. There must be revelries for Christmas even though the King could not honour the company with his presence. Down there they would be playing their games; they would choose the King for the night; the mummers would divert them and there would be laughter and song.

Joanna watched him mournfully.

'You should be with the company, my dear,' he said.

*I should be with you/

Toor Joanna, it has been a sad life we have had together.'

'That is not true/ she protested. *It has been a good life.'

*A good life! I did not know you were deceitful, wife. Look at this body of mine ... made hideous ... loathsome ... I wonder you can look at it.'

*It is yours/ she answered soberly, 'and it is my wish to care for you, to soothe your ills and be all that I promised to be.'

'You have done that,' he said. *I have been blessed in you as I was in little Mary. I doubt she was happy ... any more than you. She died of bearing children ... one after the other. Why did I not see it was too much for her? And you, Joanna, what have you had from life? Two husbands, one an old man when you went to him and the other a man persecuted by this horrible sickness.'

'Let us make the most of what we have, Henry.'

'Wise Joanna. For what else can we do?'

She soothed him as best she could. She tried not to show the aversion the sight of him must arouse in her. She was fearful because she had heard it whispered that his state had been brought about through witchcraft; and because she was a foreigner whom they had never liked there were some who declared she was the witch.

Henry did not know this. He must never know.

She must do her best to help him live through the months ahead of them. There could not be many left to him.

It was Lent. The King felt weaker. He had summoned Parliament in February and right at the last moment had been too unwell to attend.

He asked the lords to remain in London, which did not please them as they must do so at their own expense.

But they should be there. He felt their presence was needed.

March had come, and fierce blustering winds swept through the streets.

It was customary for the King to make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Edward the Confessor at the back of the high altar in the church.

Joanna tried to dissuade him.

'It is too cold,' she said, 'and you are so unwell.'

'It is expected of me,' the King reminded her.

'People must understand,' she said.

But he would not listen.

It was a slow and painful journey to the Abbey, but he reached the shrine and even as he did so he fell swooning to the ground.

His attendants picked him up and it was suggested that he be carried to the nearest room and one where a fire was burning. A pallet of straw should be brought and when this was done, he was laid down before the fire in the Jerusalem chamber.

'Let us send for the Prince of Wales with all haste,* said the Archbishop.

The King lay breathing with difficulty and he seemed to be dying when Harry arrived.

He knelt by his father's side. The King looked at him with glazed eyes and murmured his name.

Tather, I am come,' said Harry.

'Where am I?' asked the King.

'You are in the Jerusalem chamber in the Abbey,' Harry told him.

The King smiled faintly. 'They told me I would die in Jerusalem,' he said. 'Send in the crow^n.'

It w^as brought and laid beside him on a cushion made of cloth of gold.

The King seemed satisfied.

He closed his eyes.

Those about him watched him closely.

'It is the end,' said one.

'He is no longer with us,' said another.

Harry knelt at his father's side and looked at that face made hideous by the disease from which he had suffered. Joanna knelt at his other side. She raised her eyes and looked across her husband at Harry.

He is the King now, she thought.

Harry said: *It is all over,' and one of the attendants placed a silk towel across the King's face.

'It is for you to take the crown, my lord,' said one of Harry's followers.

He picked it up and even as he did so the King moved as though aware of what was happening.

The towel was removed from his face and Henry opened his eyes and looked straight at his son who was standing be-

side him with the crown in his hands.

'What right have you to it, my son,' he said, 'seeing that I had none?'

Harry answered promptly: 'Sire, as you have held it and kept it by the sword, so will I hold it and keep it as long as I shall live/

'I am not yet dead,' he said. 'They would have sent me off before I am ready. But my time is near. Do as you will but now recommend me to God and pray that He will have mercy on my soul.'

The King took the sacrament and closed his eyes; but even now he lingered on.

'Harry,' he said, 'come close to me. This is our last farewell. I love you well. I am proud of you. Always deserve that pride, my son. Look at me now. I was once strong as you are now. Think, in the midst of your glory and prosperity, of the kingdom to which I go and whither you must come. Love the Lord God and fear him. Be not too fond of ease but engage rather in the things of God and in those pleasures and sports which have in them nothing of the foulness of vice. Pay my debts and may God give you his blessing, laden with all good things that you may live iDlessed for ever and ever.'

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