Root of the Tudor Rose (38 page)

She could no longer bring herself to leave her ring in the tortoiseshell box when it was not on her finger. She now wore it on a long chain around her neck, tucking it between her breasts and under her gown where no one could see it. She knew it was there and that was all that mattered. Owen knew it was there, too, and took great delight in retrieving it from its hiding place when they had a chance to be alone. They had fallen back into the habit of largely ignoring each other during the day and spending as much time together as they could in the evening and at night, entrusting one or other of Les Trois Jo-jo with the responsibility of making sure they were not disturbed. The three Joannas had offered to share Guillemote's duties between them, rather than run the risk of a new maid being unable to resist the urge to gossip about the Queen.

As time went by, more and more people had to be let into the secret of the marriage and there was the constant worry about what would happen if Humphrey should ever find out about it but, after his outburst in Windsor on the day of the King's seventh birthday, Humphrey had tended to avoid Catherine as far as he could. For the moment, the smoke-screen story of Edmund Beaufort was still working well enough since, nowadays, Edmund spent a great deal of his time in France where he was not called upon to confirm or deny his relationship with the Dowager Queen.

A kind of numbness had settled over Catherine since losing Guillemote and she seemed disinclined to make plans of any kind. She lived for the evenings when she could be with Owen, to tell him about her day, to dream with him about the future, and to make love in the big four-poster bed.

As creamy white blossom began to hang heavy on the hawthorn in late spring, she knew with certainty that she was pregnant again. The knowledge came as no great surprise to her though, she reflected, she had only herself to blame. If she had been capable of resisting Owen it would never have happened but her body responded to him in a way which seemed entirely outside her control. He had only to look at her in a certain way and she was beyond salvation.

But another baby posed a problem. She wasn't entirely sure when it would arrive – Guillemote had always been so good at making these calculations – but she was fairly sure that it would be during early November. That meant going into hiding again but at least she would have a reasonable chance of regaining her figure before having to appear in court for the Christmas festivities. Perhaps she was wrong to be too worried.

‘So which of your dower properties would you like to visit this year, my Lady?' asked Owen with a broad grin when she told him. It didn't seem so much of a crisis this time, not for either of them. They had managed to maintain a cloak of absolute secrecy over Tacinda's birth and, if they were very careful, there was no reason to suppose that this birth would be any different.

‘Owen, I really don't mind. As long as it's a healthy baby which will be born safely and as long as I don't suffer pain like poor Jacqueline did. But I must keep this child, Owen, somehow. I must. I've had two babies, Henry and our little Tacinda, and I haven't been able to keep either of them.'

‘But we had no option but to keep Tacinda's birth a secret, Catrin. We had to.'

‘Yes, of course we did, and God knows when I'll ever see her again. But I never see Henry either. He might as well have been stolen from me and given to the gypsies. They've used me, Owen. They've used me to provide an heir for the English throne, like some sort of brood mare. That's all I'm good for. But I'm not giving up another baby. This time, I must have the pleasure of watching my child grow up to look like his father.'

‘And so you shall, cariad
,
' Owen smiled, hugging her close to him. ‘We'll find a way. And if we have another little girl, I hope she grows up to look exactly like her mother!'

They decided on Hertford Castle. Catherine's preference would have been Wallingford but the King and his entourage would be spending the summer there and Catherine didn't want to be anywhere near the court as her pregnancy progressed. The gimlet-eyed Eleanor Cobham wouldn't miss a thing.

So most of the crates and coffers for the royal family's summer progress were sent to Wallingford with the King but several were held back to await Catherine's departure to Hertford. Humphrey was still keeping his distance from her so no one questioned her decision to spend the summer away from court. No one seemed to care where she went, so she didn't expect to be disturbed or called to account. She looked forward to long summer days with Owen and their small, loyal group of servants.

Before she left Windsor, Catherine received a disquieting letter from her mother in answer to her own letter informing Queen Isabeau of Guillemote's death. The letter began with a few platitudes rather than genuine sympathy, since the Queen had never really understood her daughter's fondness for the girl who was, after all, no more than a servant.

Suddenly Catherine sat bolt upright and called to Owen. ‘Listen,' she said, ‘to what my royal mother writes from France.' She smoothed out the parchment on the table and tried to translate from the French as she went along.

‘
Maman writes that my brother Charles is at Chinon with his entourage and is being pestered by a mad peasant girl who says that she has a divine mission to save France from the English invader and to put the Dauphin on his rightful throne! A girl! And a peasant girl at that!'

‘Really? And what makes her think she can do it?'

‘She says she is being commanded by God, through the saints. According to Maman
,
she claims that St Michael speaks to her regularly and he is often accompanied by St Margaret and St Catherine.'

‘Quite a crowd,' observed Owen mildly. ‘And what do all these saints want her to do?'

‘Apparently, they want her to lead Charles and his army into battle against the English.'

‘A girl, eh? At the head of an army. And what does your brother make of it?'

‘Maman says that he has arranged for her to be examined by a committee of bishops and doctors, to determine whether she's a genuine heretic or just a crazy girl.'

‘Or a visionary,' said Owen. ‘You never know.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, my sweet,' said Catherine. ‘She's probably mad. Then again, if Charles is crowned King of France, it puts a completely different complexion on things, doesn't it? What happens to Henry? And where should my loyalties lie? With my son or with my brother?'

She didn't want to think about it. Well, not until after the baby was born.

Owen left for Hertford a day or two in advance of Catherine, to ensure that the household was running smoothly by the time she arrived. Had Catherine left at the same time, she would have missed Cardinal Beaufort altogether.

‘My Lord Uncle,' she greeted him warmly when he was shown in to see her. ‘This is indeed a pleasure. I had thought you were in Scotland.'

‘I was. But my homeward journey didn't take as long as expected,' said Henry Beaufort, holding both her hands in his and smiling broadly at her. ‘Which pleases me greatly, my Lady, since it affords me the opportunity of seeing you. How are you? And how is that husband of yours?'

‘My dear husband,' she said, savouring the word which she wasn't often able to use, ‘is well. And I have you to thank that I have a husband at all!'

‘I was glad to help. You know, we really should think of offering him rights of denizenship. For services to the Royal Family.'

‘Would you do that? He would be very pleased.'

‘Indeed, I shall personally endorse it. Life would be a great deal easier for Master Tudor if he wasn't a Welshman. He has absolutely no rights at all under English law and it has to be said that he has rendered excellent service to the Royal Family. He has even helped to increase their number!' The Cardinal gave her a mischievous look, his eyes twinkling. ‘And who knows,' he added, ‘he could increase that number yet again, so it is as well you are married!'

She smiled, feeling both embarrassed and reluctant to burden him with the disclosure of another pregnancy. After all, he was a man with issues of national importance to concern him.

‘I understand,' he went on, ‘that my old friend Marmaduke de Kyrkeby was more than pleased to help you both in the matter of your marriage.'

‘He was, and Owen and I were very glad of it, though keeping it a secret is a constant challenge.'

‘Gloucester doesn't know, does he?'

Catherine frowned. ‘No, Humphrey knows nothing about us and those who share our secret are very discreet though, of course, we all have to try to stay one step ahead of him. But, largely thanks to you my Lord Uncle, Owen and I are very happy. Tell me, have you any other good ideas up your sleeve?'

‘No, sadly. No good ideas but several concerns, I'm afraid.'

‘Concerns?'

‘Catherine, it would be less than honest of me not to tell you that things are really bad in France at the moment. And there is something I need to discuss with you. Come, let us sit down.'

They sat together at a table near the window. Henry Beaufort leaned forward on his elbows and made a steeple of his fingers. ‘My dear, my concerns are about the King,' he said. Catherine waited for him to go on, watching his face. ‘It's high time he was crowned King of France.'

‘But he hasn't yet been crowned King of England. Shouldn't that come first?'

‘Yes, of course it should. But there are very worrying things happening in France and we need to stamp our English authority on the people as soon as we can. Your brother Charles is being influenced by a young woman they call
La Pucelle
, the Maid.'

‘Ah! So, Maman was right! She wrote to me and told me that this girl wants to lead Charles' armies against the English. But, surely, that can't be true! She's probably a clever little strumpet, a camp follower who craves the company of soldiers.'

‘Whatever she is, she has found a way of influencing your brother. She's given him a sign that she knows the secrets of his innermost soul and he believes her. She claims to hear voices that tell her what to do. They say the Dauphin offered her a sword but her voices told her not to accept it, that instead she should look behind the altar in the chapel of St Catherine de Fierbois where she would find the sword she was to use.'

‘And …?'

‘And there
was
a sword there. No one had ever seen it before. It was exactly where her voices told her it would be. Now the people are starting to believe that she will yet see your brother crowned King of France. And, what is worse, they are quoting a popular prophecy saying that France has been lost by an old woman but will be recovered by a young girl. It is a prophecy which is, apparently, widely believed.'

‘And when they say ‘an old woman' … do they mean …?'

‘Your mother, the Queen. After all, it was Isabeau who worked so hard to bring about the Treaty of Troyes. So, yes, I'm afraid they do mean Queen Isabeau. And the young girl they talk of is Joan.'

‘Joan?'

‘La Pucelle. Joan of Arc.'

When Catherine arrived at Hertford a few days later, she could hardly wait to tell Owen that he was to be granted rights of denizenship. He received the news in silence.

‘But, aren't you pleased, Owen?' she asked, puzzled.

Owen sighed. ‘Yes, of course I'm pleased,' he said as he took her arm and led her towards a cushioned seat in the window embrasure. ‘Just think, now that I have the same rights as an Englishman, I could marry an English woman if I wanted to.'

‘But you are married to me!' Catherine was indignant.

Owen put his arms around her and held her close. ‘Yes, cariad, and you are the only wife I will ever want,' he assured her. ‘But just think, your devoted husband will now be allowed to enter an English town on the Welsh border on any day of the week, not just on market day. And if that border town is Chester, I won't have my head cut off if I'm still there after sunset!'

Catherine's eyes were widening as Owen smiled wryly and shook his head. ‘Yes, it's true, Catrin. The English have made some sickening laws for dealing with the Welsh, particularly in the marcher towns. But I will have as many rights as an Englishman now and, yes of course, I'm pleased about that. It's just that they're so damned high-handed about these things, so condescending. I wonder what Ednyfed Fychan would have said about their so-called generosity … or my grandfather, Tudur ap Goronwy. I am a descendant of princes, after all.'

‘Ah, but Welsh princes,' said Catherine. ‘That doesn't impress the English.'

‘Well, it should,' said Owen, ‘they were all great men. But let's forget that now. The most important thing is that you are here with me and we're together again. So tell me, what else did Cardinal Beaufort have to say for himself?'

He listened to her tirade about La Pucelle with his head on one side and a quizzical look on his face. He didn't appear to feel any particular indignation about the girl. That, too, surprised her.

‘But she is a charlatan, Owen, she must be!'

‘What makes you so sure of that?'

‘She says she hears voices, she communes with the saints, she … she wears a man's clothes!'

‘You can't lead soldiers into battle wearing a gown,' said Owen mildly.

‘Yes, but Owen, she says that she will save Orléans and that she will see Charles crowned in the cathedral at Rheims. She claims to be able to foretell the future.'

‘There are those who can. Don't question it. They are able to interpret things which are beyond our understanding. Perhaps there's no more than that to this little French girl.'

‘Little French girl? Owen, she's a monster!'

‘Cariad, let's wait and see what happens. Until you've had this baby there is absolutely nothing we can do about it anyway. So let's wait and see.'