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

He must not think of these things. He must be like Harry, who laughed a great deal and followed the serving wenches with lustful eyes and even allowed himself to comment on the charms—or lack of them—of the ladies of the Court.

Now they were playing with the cards that fascinated them both. These had been invented a few years before for the amusement of the King of France, and were becoming very fashionable in England. Many people at Court played with them and with their kings, queens, jacks and aces, they seemed suited to Court life.

Harry was smiling at the fanlike array in his hands and looking slyly across at Humphrey. One never knew what cards Harry held, thought Humphrey. He put on a face to bemuse one.

But before the game began one of the King's attendants came to them to tell them that their presence was required in the royal chamber, so they laid down their cards and went at once to obey the King's command.

Richard was lounging in his chair rather informally with his favourite greyhound, Math, at his feet. The dog watched the boys suspiciously as they approached.

Harry had tried to entice the dog to come to him but Math gave him nothing but disdain. It was almost as though he was saying, I am the King's dog, I will accept none but a King as my master.

*Ah, my cousins/ said Richard, smiling at them, 1 have news for you.'

He watched them with narrowed eyes. Harry was going to be a wild fellow, he could see that. He would be everything that he, Richard, was not. Yet he liked the boy. It gratified him to keep him at Court and within calling distance. That was how it was going to remain.

These two boys were both sons of men whom he had hated —closely related to him though they were. Humphrey was now Duke of Gloucester and Richard had hated his father more than anyone. He had been one of the uncles who had

made his life so fraught with irritation when he was very young. He had liked John of Gaunt, Harry's grandfather, once the old man had accepted his age and given up his fruitless struggle for a crown of some sort. But Harry's father, Henry of Bolingbroke, he would always be suspicious of.

He would never forget those five Lords Appellant standing before him arms linked to show that they came together and were against him. No, he had determined on revenge from the moment they had stood there. And he had it. Gloucester dead, smothered by feathers, Arundel beheaded, Warwick in prison, Norfolk and Hereford exiled. So they should remain. And if Hereford decided to make trouble he had young Harry in his grasp. Harry the hostage.

Tou will be wondering why I sent for you/ he said. *Is that so?'

'My lord, you have guessed aright,' replied Harry. There was just a trace of insolence in the young voice but the smile was disarming. One could never be sure with Harry.

* 'Twas no great conundrum,' said the King shortly. 'You are to prepare to leave for Ireland.*

'Ireland, my lord I' cried Harry.

'I said Ireland,' replied the King. 'The death of the Earl of March has made it necessary for me to take an army there. You will be with us.'

The boys heard the news with mixed feelings. They liked the thought of adventure—but Ireland! They would rather have gone to France. Harry's father was in France. Suppose ...

The King was saying, 'You will wish to make some preparations, I do not doubt. You will be instructed when we are to leave.'

Math watched them sleepily while they bowed and retired.

'To Ireland,' murmured Humphrey. 'I wonder why we are going.'

'Because the King will not let me out of his sight. I am a hostage for my father's good conduct towards him. That is why / am going,'

'But why am I?'

'Because he does not wish to make the fact of my going too pointed. If we both go ... well then we are part of the Court retinue. I see it clearly, cousin Humphrey.'

'Yes,' said Humphrey, 'so do I. I wonder how long you will go on being a hostage?'

Harry was thoughtful. He knew the King had confiscated his father's estates.

He thought such an event might make a difference.

The two boys enjoyed the excitement of making the journey to Ireland. The boisterous sea crossing which so many found distressing did not affect them. They paced the decks in the drizzling rain and felt that they were really men now going into battle.

'Of course it is only the Irish/ said Harry disconsolately. 'I wish it were the French.'

Ireland was a disappointment. There seemed to be little but miles of bog land which could be treacherous; there were stark mountains, sullen people who lived very poorly, and above all rain, perpetual rain.

Richard at the head of his armies looked very splendid indeed and he created a certain wonder among the Irish which was not without its effect. Harry noticed this. Richard had no real qualities as a leader but he had an aura of royalty which served him in a certain way. Harry had often heard of the manner in which he had faced the rebellious peasants at Blackheath and Smithfield and he understood why he had been able to quell them. He was extraordinarily handsome; so fair and light-skinned with an almost ethereal air. He was the man to ride out among his subjects and win them with his charm; but he was not the King to lead them into battle. If there was no real fighting Richard's campaign might be successful. If there was it would fail. Harry was learning a good deal about leadership. One day he would have his own men and he would know how to lead them then.

The army grew more and more disgruntled. There was nothing more calculated to sap the spirits of soldiers than inaction and perpetual rain. They were homesick; they hated Ireland. There was no real fighting to excite them and no booty in this poverty-stricken land to make their journey worth while.

Back home in England Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, was acting as Regent. Although he was the son of Edward III he was quite without ambition and asked only for a quiet and peaceful life. Perhaps that was why Richard had appointed him as Regent. The King had chosen four men to

help him, William Scrope, Earl of Wiltshire, Sir William Bagot, Sir John Bushby and Sir Henry Green. He could not have chosen four more unpopular men. Young as he was, Harry was amazed at the carelessness of the King.

It was a wretched campaign made even more so by the weather. The high seas made it impossible for stores to cross the water so lines of communication were cut off. The men were weary of the struggle, and although the Irish could not put up an army they had other ways of harassing the invaders. They destroyed even the little there would have been to leave behind them as they fled from the enemy and by the time Richard reached Dublin his army had one thought and that was to get back to their firesides as quickly as possible. They had had enough of senseless wars which brought them no profit.

There were messengers awaiting Richard in Dublin and the news they brought was catastrophic. Henry of Lancaster had landed in England; he had come to regain his inheritance, and men were rallying to his banner.

Richard had always been afraid of his cousin. He saw then that he had made a major mistake. First by exiling Henry and then by confiscating the Lancaster estates.

It was too late now to turn back.

He had two alternatives; to stay in Ireland and conduct a campaign against Henry from that country or to return and face him. He must, of course, return to England, but there would necessarily be some delay. He sent John Montacute, Earl of Salisbury back to England immediately to raise the people of Wales against Lancaster. He would follow at the earliest possible moment when he had made some arrangements here in Ireland.

Then he remembered Harry of Monmouth, son of the invader, who was in his hands.