Epitaph for Three Women (51 page)

‘I have nothing on this earth,’ she said. ‘They took from me everything I loved.’

‘You must rouse yourself. Take an interest in life. Perhaps you could become one of us.’

‘There is only one thing that would make me want to live and that is if they give me back my husband and my children. I do not wish to live without them. I cannot live without them. Oh … if I could have some news of Owen. What do you think they are going to do to him? If you could come and tell me that he is free … that he is coming to me … I would be young again tomorrow. My health would come back to me. But I need him so much. I want him, Abbess. I care for nothing. If I cannot have him and my happy life I just want to die.’

‘This is sinful talk.’

‘I care not, Abbess. I want my husband who is so cruelly taken from me. I have had a sad life … and then it was happy suddenly. I came to England and I loved the King who was good to me … but that was nothing … nothing to compare with my life with Owen. Perhaps there never has been … for any …’

‘Then you should thank God that you were allowed to enjoy it even for a while.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I thank God for Owen … for my children … but to take them from me … what sort of God is it that can do that?’

‘You blaspheme, my lady.’

She began to laugh wildly. ‘I care not. Let Him take me. Let Him do what He will. He could not do worse than He has already.’

‘You should occupy yourself with prayer. Would that not be better than this wildness? You should pray for Owen Tudor. Perhaps then God would see fit to answer your prayers.’

Then she was silent.

She would pray. She would beg.

Oh God, give him back to me.

And so it went on.

Her health was failing. She could not sleep. She scarcely ate at all.

The nuns said: ‘She is dying.’

‘Should we send to the King?’ wondered one of the sisters.

The Abbess shook her head. The Duke of Gloucester had said there must be no communication with the King.

If she could only have news of Owen Tudor it would help her, but she knew nothing except that he was in Newgate.

She asked endless questions about Newgate. What happened there? How were prisoners treated?

And her children? It was easier to give her news of them. They were settling happily in Barking.

‘Children adapt themselves,’ said the Abbess. ‘They quickly forget.’

‘Not Edmund,’ she said. ‘Not Jasper. The little ones perhaps but not those two.’

But it was for Owen she mourned. Owen in Newgate … a prisoner who had broken the law by marrying her.

The Abbess was growing more and more anxious.

‘She is willing herself to die,’ she said.

Days passed. Listlessly, she was aware of time. The sun rose; the sun set. Another day gone and no news of Owen.

She took to her bed. She was too weak to rise.

‘Death, come and take me,’ she prayed.

Often her thoughts drifted to the past; then she thought she was in the Hôtel de St Pol, clinging to Michelle … poor Michelle, she was dead now … as I soon shall be, she thought. Oh yes, that is the best for me. In the past she had fought to survive, all through that hazardous childhood. Then Henry’s death which had seemed so terrible at the time. But it had all led to those ecstatic years with Owen and then … to this.

If I had not been so happy I should not be so wretched now, she thought. God raised me to the heights only to dash me to the depths. Cruel. Cruel! Why could we not have been left alone?

And Owen? What was he suffering? She was selfish to think of herself. He would be longing for her and the children even as she longed for him; and in some dark cold damp cell. At least she had a bed in which to be miserable, good food brought to her which she would not eat.

One morning she awoke and was not sure where she was. For one brief moment she had thought she was at Hadham and that she had only to stretch out a hand to touch Owen. But no … she was not there. Then where … where …

From a long way off she heard the nuns talking.

‘She is in a high fever. It was inevitable … Such neglect of her health …’

‘If there was only news of Owen Tudor she would recover.’

The fever grew worse; she would not take the nourishing foods they brought to her. She turned her head away when they prayed by her bedside. She had no interest in anything.

And then one day there was a visitor at the Abbey.

He asked if he might have a word with the Abbess, and as it was clear that he had news of importance the Abbess agreed to see him.

‘I come from Owen Tudor,’ he said.

The Abbess stared at him in disbelief.

‘He is in Newgate … a prisoner …’

‘No more,’ said the man. ‘He has escaped … with the help of friends.’

‘Where is he?’

‘That, lady, I cannot tell you. He wishes his wife to know that he is free and will find a means of coming for her.’

‘I cannot allow this. She has been put into my charge.’

‘You must tell her that her husband is free.’

The Abbess was thoughtful. She had orders from the mighty Duke of Gloucester. She was to keep the Queen here, virtually a prisoner though treated with the utmost honour. If Owen Tudor came here and took her away what could she answer to the all powerful Duke? He would be furiously angry; he would blame her, perhaps have her removed from her post.

Yet … what that news would do to the Queen! She knew what effect it would have. If Katherine heard that her husband was free, that there was hope that they would be together again, she would regain her will to live.

The Abbess was a deeply religious woman. She had witnessed the suffering of the Queen and although she had obeyed orders to keep Katherine a prisoner in the Abbey, she had often deplored the part she had been forced to play in the drama.

Katherine was a weak woman; there was no doubt in the Abbess’s mind of that – but she loved deeply; and surely love could not be evil – even carnal love between two people who were not married.

The Abbess knew that the Duke of Gloucester would not wish Katherine to be told of her husband’s escape, but she made her way to the cell which was occupied by the Queen. She opened the door and went in.

Katherine was lying with her face turned to the wall on which hung the great crucifix.

‘I have news, my lady,’ cried the Abbess. ‘Owen Tudor is free. He has escaped from Newgate. He has sent someone to tell you that he will come for you.’

Katherine did not stir.

The Abbess went closer to the bed. She laid a hand on Katherine’s cold cheek.

‘Holy Mother of God,’ she murmured, ‘it is too late.’ Then she made the sign of the cross. ‘God rest her soul, poor tragic lady,’ she said.

When the King heard of his mother’s death he was overcome with grief.

‘When I was with her,’ he said, ‘she seemed so young … she was so happy. Oh, how cruel it was to take her away from Owen and the children.’

His Uncle Humphrey explained to him. ‘Owen had broken the law. Such acts cannot go unpunished.’

‘I can see no harm in what they did.’

‘My lord, it is always necessary to maintain the law.’

Stop treating me like a child, Henry wanted to cry out, but he said nothing. The Earl of Warwick had taught him to control his temper – not that he had inherited the Plantagenet one which was notorious. He was mild by nature but at times he could be angry and it was usually over something he considered unjust as he did this treatment of Owen and his mother.

He promised himself that he would do what he could to help Owen and his brothers and little sister.

First there was the funeral of his mother and that must be worthy of her. The King gave orders that she was to be brought to St Katherine’s Chapel by the Tower of London and there lie in state and from there be taken to St Paul’s for a memorial service and then be buried in the Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey.

Henry then sent out an order that Owen Tudor should come to him as he wished to talk with him. He need have no fear. He promised him safe conduct.

When Owen heard, he was undecided. He trusted the King but the King was but a boy, he was a figurehead merely and had no real say in affairs. The King would never have agreed to imprison him and break up his mother’s happy home. No, Owen could not risk coming to the King. Yet on the other hand he wanted to hear about his children. If he could see Henry alone … But what was the use? It was a trap.

He came to London however but the nearer he approached the capital the more uneasy he became. And when he reached Westminster so certain was he of treachery, so eager to avoid a further incarceration in Newgate that he took fright and with it sanctuary in Westminster Abbey.

Eleanor and Humphrey were furious when they heard he had come so far and still eluded them.

‘The King is too interested in Tudor,’ said Humphrey. ‘Let them get together and the boy will be showering honours on him and before we know where we are we shall have a favourite on our hands, telling him what to do and how the rest of us are concerned with our own ambitions.’

‘It must never get to that,’ agreed Eleanor. ‘He must be lured out of sanctuary.’

‘And how?’ asked Humphrey.

‘He is an old soldier and I have discovered that he used to frequent that tavern by Westminster Gate. If he could be lured there he could be taken and sent back to prison. After all he is guilty of escaping.’

‘We will try it,’ said Humphrey.

It was not difficult of course to find an old soldier who had served at Agincourt with Owen. Agincourt was a magic word to those old warriors. They could never resist talking of it and how they had taken part in and won one of the greatest battles in military history.

The old soldier would be delighted to work for the Duke of Gloucester. He would go into the Abbey, get into conversation with his fellow soldier and tell him of the stories which were told in the old tavern of Westminster Gate.

Owen was pleased to see a man whom he could not remember having seen before but who had undoubtedly served with King Harry’s army. They talked a while of old times, but when the suggestion came to visit the tavern Owen was wary. There was too much at stake to risk it for the sake of a convivial evening. He was grieving deeply for the loss of Katherine and still could not believe that she was dead. She had seemed so full of life, like a young girl, and that she could have wasted away, died of melancholy still seemed an evil dream to him.

So the trick failed, much to the chagrin of Eleanor and Humphrey.

‘I’ll get him yet,’ vowed Humphrey.

In the meantime Owen sought an opportunity of seeing the King. He knew that if he saw the boy alone then he could make him understand that he had committed no crime. He had escaped when he had been wrongfully imprisoned. There was nothing criminal about that.

He had the utmost faith in the King.

Greatly daring he decided to make his way by night to Kennington where the King was sitting with his Privy Council. The Duke of Gloucester was not present and it seemed a good time to state his case.

The King and the members of the Council were startled when Owen burst in upon them. Henry stared at him and he cried out: ‘Owen, it is you then?’

And then a terrible desolation swept over the young King for he was reminded afresh of the death of his mother.

‘My lord King, my lords of the Council,’ said Owen. ‘I come to beg you hear me. Have I your leave to tell you why I am here and to explain that I have been wrongfully imprisoned?’

The King astonished everyone by saying in a loud clear voice: ‘You have our leave Owen Tudor to state your case.’

Owen addressed himself to the boy – Katherine’s son, who looked a little like her; the same clear eyes, the same innocence. His spirits rose. His enemies were not present, he could hope that the King would help him, and he stated the facts clearly. He had loved the Queen dearly and she had loved him. She was no longer of importance to the country. Any children they had would be Tudors remote from the throne. They had loved and married before the law was brought in forbidding marriages such as theirs. The Queen was now dead. She had died of melancholy because she had been unable to bear the separation from her husband and children. He had been imprisoned. True he had escaped, but he saw no wrong in that because he should never have been imprisoned in the first place.