Authors: Mari Griffith
The Witch of Eye
WHO'S WHO AMONG THE RESIDENTS OF WESTMINSTER VILLAGE
Bibliography and Acknowledgments
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2016
The Witch of Eye
Mari Griffith
A
love that leads to treason ...
1435, England. Eleanor Cobham has married into the highest ranks of the aristocracy – she is now the Duchess of Gloucester. She and her husband, the Duke Humphrey, set up a court of their own to rival the royal court in London, surrounding themselves with fascinating and influential people.
But Eleanor craves the one thing she lacks: a son and heir, and with him a possible route to the throne of England. Desperate, Eleanor turns to the one person she believes can help her: Margery Jourdemayne, the infamous Witch of Eye. Such help comes at a high price ...
For Megan, Manon and Jessica,
the next generation of young women
who will have to make their way in the world.
ââââââââ
A
t the Palace
Henry VI, King of England and France
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester (the King's uncle)
Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester (Duke Humphrey's second wife)
Cardinal Henry Beaufort (the King's great-uncle)
William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk (adviser to the King)
Alice de la Pole (his wife)
Canon John Hume (secretary to the Duke)
Magister Roger Bolingbroke (secretary to the Duchess)
William Woodham (a member of the Duke's administrative staff)
Members of the Royal Council
ââââââââ
A
t the Abbey and the Monastery
Abbot Richard Harweden
Thomas Southwell (Canon of Westminster and Rector of St Stephen's Royal Chapel)
John Virley (supplier of inks and vellum to the monastery scriptorium)
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W
orkers on the Eye Estate
William Jourdemayne (the tenant farmer)
Margery Jourdemayne (his wife)
Dairymaids and other farm workers
Early summer 1435
––––––––
‘I
t’s going to be beautiful!’
As her husband helped her to alight from the royal barge onto the landing stage, Her Grace the Duchess of Gloucester paused for a moment, shielding her eyes against the sun and looking around her. A short distance away from the riverbank she could see workmen clambering about on the wooden scaffolding that clad the front of a charming manor house. A broad, winding path led up to the entrance.
‘Such a heavenly spot,’ she murmured, ‘here at the water’s edge. When the building work is finished, it will be the most beautiful house on the Thames.’
‘It will be the most beautiful house in the whole of England!’ said Duke Humphrey. ‘At least, that’s my intention, though I dread to think how much money I have already spent on it.’
‘It will be worth every groat,’ his wife assured him.
They had journeyed downriver from the Palace of Westminster to inspect the improvements being made to Bella Court, the manor house at Greenwich that the Duke had acquired on the death of his older brother, King Henry V. At present, the building was modest enough, though it benefitted greatly from its picturesque setting on a gentle curve of the river. Weeping willows dipped their long tresses into the water while graceful swans, with downy little cygnets perched snug and safe on their backs, glided serenely on its sunlight-dappled surface. Eleanor smiled as she watched: there was beauty in motherhood throughout the natural world.
Stepping on to dry land, she tucked her hand possessively under her husband’s elbow and they began strolling towards the house, their attendants following in their wake.
‘Poor Henry,’ said the Duke. ‘He was really looking forward to taking his ease here, resting and celebrating his victories. He saw Bella Court as a place where he could relax completely.’
‘He didn’t have much opportunity to do that,’ said Eleanor.
‘No, sadly, he didn’t,’ Humphrey agreed. ‘The price of his success was that he was forced to spend most of his time in France.’
‘With you to help him in subduing the French,’ she was quick to point out.
‘I could hardly do otherwise. After all, he did save my life at Agincourt. I’ll never forget that.’
‘Of course. But, d’you know, Humphrey,’ said Eleanor as they walked, ‘I think it’s a pity that Bella Court is such a dull name, because it certainly won’t be a dull house, not after we’ve moved into it. Could we change it, do you think? Perhaps we should give it a French name to honour your brother’s memory.’
‘That would certainly be appropriate,’ he agreed.
‘Maison Agincourt, perhaps?’
‘Oh, no! Agincourt was the bloodiest of battles, despite Henry’s great victory. Our house won’t be a place of confrontation, it will be a house where everything is agreeable, enjoyable ... pleasing.’
‘Pleasing to all the senses?’
‘Mmmm,’ said Humphrey.
‘
La Pleasaunce would be better.’
‘Oh, that’s a delightful name!’ Eleanor exclaimed, stopping briefly to hug his arm. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Humphrey said, pleased with himself. ‘So come, my sweet, let us explore the many delights of our new pleasure palace and see how everything is coming along.’
‘I’m so excited about this, Humphrey. When does the architect expect it will be finished?’
‘We’ve made ambitious plans,’ Humphrey said, ‘so, of course, the building work will take time, probably several months. Then the house must be furnished exactly to our liking. But we will certainly have taken full possession of it come springtime and we should be feeling thoroughly at home here by next summer.’
‘In time for my birthday in August?’
‘In plenty of time for your birthday. By August, I’m sure we’ll feel as though we’ve lived here all our lives.’
‘Then I shall insist upon holding a celebration second to none, a party everyone will remember as the best they ever attended. We will invite your nephew, the King, and everyone who is anyone at court. We’ll show them how to have a wonderful day, far away from dreary old Westminster or dull old Windsor. And all in celebration of my birthday!’
Eleanor skipped a step or two in delight, thrilled at the thought of a glittering royal event in the presence of the King, where she was the centre of attention. Walking beside her, Humphrey regarded her rapture with a smile. He knew the work would take time, though teams of builders were already hard at work, extending the existing house and creating a bigger and better structure, as befitted the nobility of its inhabitants. The detailed plans that he had discussed with his architects included tranquil gardens on all sides, as far as the eye could see. These had already been planted so as to be fully mature by the following year and shady river walks were dotted with sweetly scented, rose-covered arbours.
Behind the main building was a spacious tiltyard where an audience of a hundred or more could be seated to watch a joust and, beyond that, two hundred acres of parkland offered the opportunity for sports, hawking and hunting of all kinds. With its soothing architecture, the house would welcome all who visited and the high wall which surrounded the whole estate would ensure complete privacy and safety for the guests. Though it was less than an hour’s journey downriver from Westminster, it could have been a hundred miles away.
‘This will be an enchanting place,’ Humphrey enthused as he and Eleanor neared the imposing main entrance with their guards and attendants following at a respectful distance. ‘We’ll fill it with good fellowship and with poetry, we’ll dance to the finest music. Our discourse will be with astronomers, astrologers, philosophers, writers...’
‘And what of entertainments, Humphrey? Will we have masques and dancing?’ Eleanor asked, seeing it all in her mind’s eye.
‘We’ll have all manner of entertainments, feasting, singing, jousting. And we shall take pleasure in the talents of the most skilled entertainers, the best poets and musicians.’
‘And will you read to me, Humphrey?’
‘Of course. What would you like to hear?
Floris and Blancheflour? King Horn? Havelok the Dane?’
‘Yes, maybe. Or perhaps some of John Gower’s work? I’m very fond of the
Confessio Amantis
. And you must read me Chaucer’s
Parliament of Fowls
on St Valentine’s Day. But it doesn’t matter which. I love them all!’
‘And I love you,’ Humphrey said, bending his head to whisper in her ear, ‘especially when the happy ending to a romantic story puts you in the mood for a little romance of your own.’
‘Humphrey,’ she said, stopping for a moment and standing quite still. ‘How long do you think it will be before we can use our bedchamber here for its proper purpose?’
‘Sleeping, you mean?’ he teased her.
‘Oh, Humphrey! You know exactly what I mean!’
‘Alas, my Lady,’ said Humphrey with mock regret, ‘but until our love nest is prepared and ready for us, there is little we can do about what we both desire. We will have to wait until tonight, when we have returned to Westminster.’
