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

It was a sad time. Negotiations had failed. Henry demanded too much. Louis the Dauphin who had been so full of health and had tauntingly sent Henry the tennis balls, had died suddenly. He had never recovered from the shame of Agincourt, it was said. He had been so certain that he was going to bring Henry as his prisoner to Paris—or at least his head on a pike. After the outcome he had been plunged into melancholy, and one day his attendants went into his apartment and found him dead. Of a broken heart, they said.

Prince Jean had become Dauphin and, when after a few months he was stricken by some mysterious disease which killed him within days, people began to say that there was a blight on France. This was a sign. The King mad, two of his sons dying within a short time of each other; the English triumphantly ranging all over the country. What could it mean?

There was a new Dauphin, Charles. The Queen was accused of poisoning her sons; the King had lapsed into mad-

ness; there was plague and famine in Paris.

What will happen next? Katherine asked herself.

The first thing that happened was the arrival of the Queen in Paris. She came at once to Katherine.

She was still so beautiful that Katherine could not help gazing at her in admiration. The Queen embraced her daughter and there were tears in her magnificent eyes.

'My dearest child/ she cried. Her dearest child—whom she had left to starve in the Palace of St Pol, in whose welfare she had shown no interest until this moment! Katherine was taken aback but she felt the old fascination creeping over her and she remembered how as a child she had hidden in cramped positions hoping for a chance to get a glimpse of the glorious goddess.

'Why are you here, my lady? I had thought you were at Tours.'

*I have escaped. Yes, I have left my prison at Tours. I am needed here and my great concern is your future ... and that of France. For they are one and the same. You can save France, Katherine.'

'How so?'

'You are beautiful. You take after me, dear child/

'Oh no, no. I could never be like you.'

'Perhaps not. Still you have beauty and that is always a good thing to have. I'll swear that when he sees you he will find you irresistible. He was a wdld young man in his youth. Always fond of women. Oh yes, he will find he must have you. It is our way out of this dismal state which would never have happened if I had not been shut away ... if Louis had never died ... Never mind, Katherine. You and I are going to save France.'

'How, my lady?'

'First I want a picture painted of you. I want him to see that lovely face ... it is just the shape of mine; the large dark eyes. Yes, it will mean a good deal "^vhen he sees your portrait.'

1 wish I was not to be handed to him as part of a treaty.'

The Queen sighed. 'It is something we of royal blood must be reconciled to, Katherine. Think, you will be Queen of England and there will be an end to these senseless wars.'

'What if they send you back to Tours?'

*I have a strong ally,' she said. 'Burgundy is with me now.'

Burgundy! Orleans! It mattered not to her which it was.

What she wanted was alliance with the one who could bring her power.

Rouen was about to fall into his hands. He could not fail. France was crumbling. This was the time to press home his advantages.

Poor mad Charles would have to give in; it was a stroke of good fortune for Henry that Dauphin Louis had died— although he had hoped to get even with him for that tennis ball insult. And then Jean. Such events were invaluable for striking terror into a nation.

They saw God's displeased hand in this.

God was on the side of England. It had been obvious at Agincourt when a small English army had been so completely victorious.

While he was in camp before Rouen calculating that before another day had passed the town would be his, messengers arrived from the Court of France.

They had something for him. A portrait.

Eagerly he scanned it. She was young and beautiful and she had a look of Isabella. Isabella had been his first love and he had never quite forgotten her. Perhaps she was not as beautiful as he had imagined her; but he remembered first seeing her and most of all he remembered her devotion to Richard. He wanted someone like that, someone to love him, to adore him, to remain faithful throughout his life.

Katherine of France looked very like her sister. The same dark eyes, the oval-shaped face, the masses of dark hair and the resolute set of the lips.

I'll have her, he thought. Before long she shall be my wife.

Rouen had fallen; the King was at Melun. Something had to be done.

A meeting was arranged between the Queen and her daughter with Henry. It was to take place at Pontoise.

On the banks of the river tents and pavilions had been set up. They were as elegant as the French could make them—in blue and green velvet ornamented with gold. It was a brilliant occasion and in the royal barge richly decorated with the

fleur de lys Katherine came with her mother and the Duke of Burgundy. Her father was unable to accompany them because of another spell of madness.

Katherine was led into the most richly decorated of the pavilions and very soon there were shouts to proclaim the arrival of the King of England.

Henry was accompanied by his two brothers, Clarence and Gloucester, and a thousand men at arms and as he stepped into the tent Katherine's eyes were fixed on him and her heart beat fast with excitement.

Henry came forward and first bowed to the Queen and then kissed her. Then he turned to Katherine. Her lips parted; and she was smiling; and he was smiling at her. He laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed her lips.

It was unceremonious but she was delighted; and so was he.

She wished that they were alone and she could talk to him.

But this was not the time.

She was seated between her mother and the Duke of Burgundy and Henry sat opposite with a brother on either side of him. She was gratified to notice that during the whole of the proceedings Henry did not take his eyes from her.

The conference was over all too soon for Katherine and when it had broken up no definite arrangements had been made.

There must be another conference, said her mother.

It is clear to me that the King has fallen in love with my daughter,' she added with pride.

But Henry's passion was not so great that he was going to give away any of his demands. They were excessive.

*We are not yet beaten,' said Burgundy.

There was another meeting at Pontoise. 'This time/ said the Queen, 'Katherine shall not go with us.'

Henry was clearly disappointed but as adamant as ever and the conference ended in deadlock.

Henry was sure that they must meet his demands. *We will wait a few days,' he said to his brother. 'They will give way.'

He was disconcerted when he saw the pavilions being removed which was a sign that the French had nothing more to say.

He sought one more interview with the Duke of Burgundy.

'I tell you this,' he cried, 'we will have the daughter of the King of France or we will drive the King out of his country

... and you too, my lord of Burgundy/

Tou may threaten to do so,' was the cool reply, 'but before you have succeeded in driving me out of my country you will be very exhausted.'

Katherine felt deflated. She was sure he had wanted her. And yet he had let her go.

Perhaps she would never see him again.

The war continued. Henry was almost at the gates of Paris. There was nothing for the French to do but sue for peace.

Messages from Burgundy and the Queen of France were delivered to Henry's camp. Would he agree to another meeting?^

His answer was: No. I trust none of you except the Princess Katherine. If I treat with any of you it would only be with her.