The Secret Diary of Eleanor Cobham (4 page)

Inimici autem mei vivunt

The coming of autumn to the castle has also brought a visitor of such importance I begin to hope I may be rescued after all. Late one afternoon a noisy commotion came from the direction of the south gatehouse. There was much loud shouting and I could hear the heavy boots of soldiers running in the corridor. They had placed guards at my door. It had never happened before, so I knew something important was happening. I listened for over an hour but the castle walls are thick. I could hear nothing of what was happening outside and could see nothing from the narrow windows of my tower.

My first thought was that the king had been overthrown for his incompetence. The rioting that started in Kent reached London last month, so it could be it has finally reached Anglesey. I asked the servant who brought my supper if she could tell me what was going on. She was younger than the others and one of the few English speaking women working at Beaumaris who did not seem afraid of me. She told me a ship from Ireland had tried to land at the castle quay and was turned away by the sergeant-at-arms and soldiers of the guard. The gatehouses had been sealed off and no one allowed in or out since. Even those who lived outside the castle had been told they must remain, by order of William Bulkeley. The rumour in the kitchens was that the ship carried no less than Richard, the Duke of York.

Richard is a Plantagenet, one of the wealthiest land owners and most powerful men in the country. He is a cousin of my husband and once supported his open opposition to the policies of our enemy, Cardinal Henry Beaufort. I find it hard not to believe his attempted landing at the castle means he intended to see me. His father Richard, Earl of Cambridge, was beheaded by my husband’s brother King Henry V for his part in the Southampton Plot, so although Richard claims loyalty to the king, he may see his chance. There is still no heir to the throne and it is possible he intends to take advantage of the public dissent. Now my husband is dead, the way is clear to put himself forward as heir apparent to the crown.

It was nearly a whole week later that I was visited by Lady Ellen, who was in some distress. She told me it was indeed Richard, Duke of York, who had sailed that day into Beaumaris from his castle in Ireland. It had fallen to her husband and the castle guard to arrest him, on orders from the king. T
he duke was determined to land at the castle dock, the safest landing place for his ship on this side of the island.

Lady Ellen confided that her husband was in a quandary, as he had no wish to arrest and imprison such a powerful and important man. He had shown true courage, as he ordered the barbican on the south gatehouse to be closed off, remaining with a small force of armed men outside to prevent the duke’s ship from
landing or
entering the castle dock, at great risk to himself.

Richard had been angry and threatened he would report this interference by her husband and his men to the king, but William Bulkeley did not give in. The duke eventually moored in the small harbour at Beaumaris, a shallow place used by the ferry and fishing boats. Ellen told me
Thomas Norris
,
captain of the town of Beaumaris, met the duke there with five soldiers and denied him landing for supplies. Duke Richard then crossed
to the mainland where Ellen’s own father barred his way with
Lord Sudeley, the king’s captain in Conway town, surrounded by his garrison of soldiers.

The duke and his small group of armed men forced their way through, as no one cared much for the inept king or his incompetent parliament, so made no move to fight or detain him. He is now thought to be heading to his castle in Ludlow to rally his supporters. Ellen fears that if Richard of York claims the throne he will remember his threat to deal harshly with those who had dared to bar his way. She has heard rumours that
rebels in Kent and Sussex claim to be acting in the names of Mortimer and York. The riots in London have given him the cause he needed,
so I am sure Richard is capable of raising an army of fighting men and marching against the king.

Lady Ellen’s husband, my jailer, told her Duke Richard did not ask to see me or even mention my name. Although he clearly wished to moor his ship in the castle dock, he and his crew were seeking a safe haven and supplies for a journey. The duke himself made no move to enter the castle. He has been here before, so knows how easily it can be defended against his small force. I could tell from the look in her eyes that Ellen doubted the duke had cared about me. He was simply passing through Wales on his way to confront King Henry VI.

Duke Humphrey’s house in London became one of the most important places in the country, with many high ranking people coming and going. Some wanted favours, calling to renew their relations with the new regent. Others needed decisions made, disputes settled and guidance on matters of state. At the centre of it all, enjoying all the attention and false compliments, was the Countess Jacqueline, supported by her ladies-in-waiting. She had taken effortlessly to the role of the duke’s hostess, entertaining the most distinguished visitors while Humphrey was in meetings.

The duke was also enjoying his new importance. He later told me of his frustration having to share the role of regent with his brother John. Although Humphrey wa
s a prince in the line of royal succession, he was t
he youngest of four sons of the king and had never been expected to take the role. Instead, he had been given the best possible education, in preparation for a life as a scholar knight or even in the church. He had also not been expected to prove such an able military commander and all he had achieved had prepared him well for the challenging task of the temporary regency.

As well as overseeing the meetings of Parliament, Humphrey was empowered to do all things necessary for the welfare of the country and to exercise the royal prerogative in ecclesiastical matters, giving him effective control of church and state. Looking back I can see he presided over one of the most peaceful times I can remember in England.

The king’s war in France was beginning to outlive its popularity and had none of the glamour of a victory such as Agincourt. There were signs the soldiers were tiring of the endless sieges and Humphrey realised most people in England had no idea of the patient diplomacy needed to secure peace in France.

Countess
Jacqueline
longed to see more of the towns and cities of England, so she persuaded Humphrey it would be a good idea for us to embark on a grand ‘progress’, taking a vast retinue of supporters to visit the most important towns and cities of the land. The king had last toured the country when he married Catherine, but that had been a different matter. He was preoccupied with the war and only interested in gathering support for his next campaign in France. Humphrey was visiting the towns and cities to show the people he understood the changes that were sweeping through the country, and aimed to win new friends and supporters. Wealthy merchants and traders competed with each other to secure titles and favour.

It was an exciting time for me, as I had never travelled far before and we were welcomed as royalty everywhere we went. Countess Jacqueline paid for the finest seamstresses in London to make silk dresses for her ladies-in-waiting. She even loaned me her gold and silver jewellery, diamond rings, pearl necklaces, worth more than I could ever dream of owning.

I needed to take care, for more than once I was mistaken for the countess herself. The duke also flattered me with his attention and began to take an interest in improving my education. He let me have my pick of his books, one of the finest collections in the country, and promised to introduce me to his favourite poets.

I now have to wear my thick woollen cloak on my walks, as protection from the biting autumn winds. The early morning skies are grey with mist and the noisy gulls circle my tower and roost on the battlements, like huddled grey harbingers of the cold winter to come. The castle has grown quieter now. No more important visitors are expected now the nights draw in and I am alone and forgotten. Writing about the events that changed my life makes me melancholy but the fresh air reminds me how fortunate I am to be one of the few survivors of those times.

Cardinal Beaufort, for all his clever scheming and trickery, is now dead, managing to outlive my poor husband by barely one month. I was right to fear Henry Beaufort and know he was the man behind my downfall. My imprisonment makes it hard for me to be certain of rumours, but Lady Ellen heard he was terrified of meeting his maker and died screaming, offering the whole treasury of England in return for living a while longer.

I wonder if his many sins gave him a heavy conscience. As well as plotting the ruin of my family, he was guilty of cruelly burning young Joan, Maid of Orleans. It was my husband’s long dead brother John, Duke of Bedford, who paid the Burgundians ten thousand francs for Joan but the cardinal presided over the deceit of her long trial.

As with me, they charged her with heresy, using magic and witchcraft. Cardinal Beaufort refused her appeal for mercy to the pope, knowing she would be saved. Henry Beaufort condoned the torture of the devoutly Christian girl and planned the trickery of her confession. John signed the order, in the king’s name, sentencing her to be burned at the stake as a witch, and it was by Cardinal Beaufort’s order that her ashes were put into a sack and thrown into the River Seine.

I stop at the castle chapel and light a candle in memory of poor Joan. Not because I believe in God, but because like me she was cruelly wronged and should not be forgotten. A second candle flickers in the cold chapel for my beloved Duke Humphrey. I do not know how he met his end; only that he was arrested and died in custody. A third candle is lit for my son Arthur, hanged by the Duke of Suffolk for treason against the king. I grieve for his innocent soul.