The Star of Lancaster - Plaidy Jean (бесплатные онлайн книги читаем полные TXT) 📗

'Oh Henry have a care. What if some servant overheard!'

'My little Mary, you are too nervous. It is your state. Never mind. Very soon we shall have our boy, eh?'

'And when shall you leave with your uncle?'

'Tomorrow. There is little time to lose.'

'And when shall you come back?'

'So much depends on Richard,' he said. 'But I shall see you are safe and well looked after. That is why I chose Monmouth for you. It is a little remote. You can forget everything here but the coming baby.'

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74 The Star of Lancaster

*Do you think I should ever forget you, Henry?*

*I trust not, my love. But you are my wife and you must obey me. My commands are that you should rest quietly, be at peace, not fret, and in due course you will be delivered of our child.'

*You set me impossible tasks,' she replied. 'How can I rest quietly while I know you are involved in plots against the King.'

'Not against the King, my love. For the King. Everything we do shall be for his good ... if he is wise enough to realize it.'

There was nothing more she could say. She must accept the fact that she was married to a very ambitious man who could see the crown glittering only a few steps away and if it seemed unlikely that he could ever take those steps, he was optimistic and determined to lose no opportunity which might arise.

The next day he left with his uncle Thomas.

It was impossible for her to settle comfortably. She fretted; she suffered sleepless nights; she was constantly watching for messengers who would bring dreaded bad news.

August had come; the days were hot and sultry; she could not move from room to room without a great deal of discomfort.

'You must rest, my lady,' said her women.

Rest was no good to her, they knew. She wanted peace of mind.

Her pains had started; all through the day they continued. She was in agony. Her women were growing anxious. They were reminded of that other occasion when she had given birth to a stillborn child.

'It will break her heart if she loses this child too,' said one of them.

'And small wonder,' added another. 'She has been sick with anxiety since my lord went away.'

'She is frail for childbearing and it did her no good that she should have a child when she was so young.'

'God help us. I fear for her. Is there no sign of the child yet then?'

No sign.

Mary could think of nothing but the pain. It came and

I

The Lord Harry 75

went and came again. She tried to stifle her cries.

She was glad Henry was not there.

'Please God,' she prayed, 'help me. Help me and give me a boy/

She was unconscious when the child was born.

The midwife took it.

'A boy,' she said. 'She's got her boy. A puny little thing. No life in it.'

Then she cried out. 'Oh no. He does not breathe. He is dead. This will kill her ...'

She laid the little naked body across her knees and began slapping its purple exterior with a vigour which alarmed those who looked on.

'This is no fault of the child.. ' said someone.

But the midwife paused suddenly, listening. Then a smile of triumph illuminated her features. 'He breathes,' she cried. 'It has worked the miracle. I have slapped life into him. A weakling ... but a live baby. Thank God ... for her blessed sake.'

She laid the child aside and went to look at the mother.

Mary was breathing with difficulty.

'Send a message to my lord,' she said. 'He will be waiting for it. He should come without delay. Let him be told that he has a son.'

Henry was on his way to Monmouth when he heard that his son was born. He had been determined to be close by so that he could go to Mary and see their child as soon as it arrived. He had been so preoccupied with his allies that he had had little time to brood on what was happening at Monmouth. He was in a quandary. All the time he was aware of the overwhelming ambition of his uncle Thomas. There was no affection between them; they were allies only for the sake of expediency. Henry knew that Thomas would like to see Richard deposed and himself take the crown. That was something which must be avoided at all costs. If Richard was to relinquish the crown it should not go to Gloucester. He was the youngest of the sons of Edward the Third. No. It must go to John of Gaunt because only then could it come to Henry. But John of Gaunt was out of the country trying to win the crown of Castile and if this revolt came to anything it would

be Thomas of Gloucester who was on the spot. But of course Lionel's offspring should come before him. Then John of Gaunt. Then Edmund of Langley, now Duke of York. But Henry could well imagine how Thomas would dispose of their claims. Lionel's daughter I A girl on the throne. What they wanted was a strong man, and with John of Gaunt out of the country pursuing the crown of Castile, and Edmund Duke of York having no desire for the crown, Thomas came next.

No, never, thought Henry. Richard must not be deposed until my father is here to take the crown!

These were his thoughts as he rode towards Monmouth.

At Ross on Wye he was stopped by a ferryman, who cried out: 'Goodmorrow to you, my lord.' And recognizing the lions and leopards he added: 'And God's blessing on your bonny son.'

'Why do you say that?' asked Henry.

'Because I know you for Henry of Bolingbroke and your lady has borne you a son I have heard.*

Henry was overcome with joy. For a while he forgot the inadequacies of Richard and the devious ways of his uncle Thomas; he even forgot his own ambitions.

He threw the man a purse of gold, and not waiting to receive his thanks shouted to his followers: 'All speed to Monmouth.'

Arriving at the castle his delight was decidedly dampened. He was shown a puny infant—a boy it was true, but only just alive.

'He'll need special care, this one, my lord,' said the midwife.

He looked at the child in dismay. This tiny scrap of red and wrinkled flesh, the son he had so longed for! It did not bawl as he would have liked to hear it. It just lay still in its nurse's arms.

'He'll need a wet nurse, my lord. My lady is in no state to feed the child.'

'My lady .. .*

He went at once to her bedside. Oh God, he thought, is this Mary? This pale, wan little creature looking so small in the big bed, her hair falling about her; her eyes sunken and yet lighting with joy at the sight of him.

'Mary,' he cried, and knelt by her bed.

'Henry,' she said quietly, 'we have the boy. You are pleased?'

He nodded. 'But you must get well.'

'I will. I will. I must. There is the boy ... and you ...'

'He ... he's a fine boy/ lied Henry.

'They will not bring him to me. They say I am too tired. I must rest. But I have seen him. He is a fine boy ... Henry/

*A fine boy/ repeated Henry.

'He is to be called after you.'

'Then there'll be two of us.'

'He shall be Harry ... Harry of Monmouth.'

'So be it/ said Henry.

She closed her eyes and he turned away to the midwife. 'Are the doctors here?'

'Yes, my lord, they are waiting to see you.'

He talked long with them. The Countess was exhausted. She needed rest ... and peace. As for the child, they hoped they would keep him alive. His first need was a strong and healthy wet nurse.

Henry had one purpose now. He must save the child for if he were lost he feared that Mary would die. It was the thought of the child that was keeping her alive. The child must live.

'Find a nurse at once/ he commanded. 'There must be a strong and healthy girl near by.'

He paced up and down the room. He heard the baby whimper. He prayed for God's help; and suddenly an idea came to him.

He went down to the stables and commanded the grooms to saddle his horse. Then he rode six miles to Welsh Bicknow, the home of his friend John Montacute who was the second son of the Earl of Salisbury. A few weeks previously John's wife Margaret had given birth to a lusty baby and some instinct told him that here he would find the help he needed.