Wolf Wood (Part Two): The Dangerous years (17 page)

Maud was twelve and Simon eleven. Two of their other children had died. Alice and Harald had lost one of theirs. Their surviving son, Steven, was thirteen when Robin last saw him. Maud was fascinated by her big cousin and often asked about him.

Strictly speaking, Steven wasn't a cousin. He wasn't even related. But the children called his parents Aunt Alice and Uncle Harald so it wasn't unreasonable for him to be Cousin Steven.

The Gascoignes had gone off to join the Lancastrian court in Westminster. He and Henriette were firmly based in York's stronghold of Ludlow. Robin hoped that the two parties could overcome their differences. He wasn't optimistic. There was too much entrenched self-interest in the Lancastrian camp.

Spymaster

S
teven took a pair of scissors from his mother's embroidery box and cut a neat hole in a piece of thick cloth. His parents were taking one of their many walks. They said it was for exercise. There was some truth in that but exercise wasn't their main reason for promenading along the banks of the Thames. They did it when they wanted to speak without being overheard.

The hole in the cloth matched the cow horn he was shaping. The hollow tip fitted neatly into his ear. All that remained was to trim the other end so that it matched the contours of the plaster around the listening tube.

It was important avoid making marks because that would leave clues. Their apartment was searched when they went out. They knew because his father was careful to position his writing block so he would know if the palace spies had opened it while he was out and they usually had.

Steven went to the alcove and slipped the cloth over the hole leading to the tube, taking care to hold his breath. If anyone was listening at the other end, they would hear him breathing and wonder what was going on. The cloth fitted nicely but the cow horn was not quite right. He tipped it from side to side and figured where more trimming was needed. That took a while but he got a neat fit.

He checked that the plaster was unmarked and returned the horn to the hole. His father said that the other ends of the tubes were often left uncovered. That had struck him as foolish at the time. Now, he knew he was right.

Sound travelled in both directions.

He could hear voices. They came and went. He guessed the speakers were walking about. It wasn't possible to hear whole sentences. Most of the time he got no more than the tone of voice and the odd word. There was a woman and at least two men.

He
recognised
one of the men. He had a speech impediment and had been pumping him for information about Robin. But, they weren't talking about Robin. They were talking about the crushing defeat in France. Commander Talbot had been killed at a place called Castillon and Gascony had fallen to the French.

The woman was speaking English with a distinctive French accent. The man with the speech defect couldn't get his tongue round the French names and the lady was showing extreme annoyance. She kept correcting him but to no effect. The atmosphere was clearly tense.

Steven strained his ears, trying to capture whole sentences. All he got was the occasional key word. He made a mental note:
Castillon, Talbot, Henry, Arundel, Bedlam.
It wasn't much but it was a start.

He sat back. The woman was probably Queen Margaret but he couldn't be sure.
Henry
was almost certainly the king.
Bedlam
was where they treated the mentally ill. His parents had been there to see someone. They wouldn't tell him about it and he saw no reason to tell them about the cow horn and what he had found out.

Incognito

A
lice grasped Harald's arm. They didn't have much time to speak. She had been sitting quietly, doing her embroidery, when a royal messenger burst into the apartment. His face was flushed and he was out of breath. Dr John Arundel wanted them to go round to the hospital immediately. A carriage and escort were being arranged and would be ready within the hour.

In the meantime, there were important matters to discuss. As always, the river bank was a convenient place to walk and talk in private. She waited until they were well clear of the gatehouse before speaking.

'Why the urgency?' she asked.

'It may have something to do with Talbot,' Harald replied. 'His death and the loss of Gascony have caused a major upset.'

'What's that got to do with Bedlam?'

'I'm merely speculating.'

'There's no time for that,' Alice quickened her pace. 'I'm worried about those documents I was given to translate. We need to talk about them.'

'Have you got them with you?'

'Of course!

She removed some papers from a bag that hung from her shoulder.

'The Arabic texts concern the subject of madness in families that have become inbred. It's a delicate subject at the best of times.'

'It can become very dangerous when the fate of the realm is involved,' Harald remarked dryly.

'That's what worries me.' She handed him a sheaf papers. 'You've seen my translations. You said there was nothing exceptional in them. Do you still hold that view?'

'There's nothing here that we didn't know already.' Harald thumbed through the papers. 'If Arundel expected something new he will be disappointed. The Moslems know no more than we do.'

'Quite so. If families inbreed, traits become magnified. If they are undesirable traits then you can have undesirable outcomes.'

'Any sheep breeder can tell you that,' Harald grunted. 'The generations are shorter so it doesn't take long to discover what can go wrong when you mate cousins with cousins. Sometimes desirable traits are enhanced. That's what we aim at. When the opposite happens, we serve the unfortunates up as lamb chops.'

'That's not an option with royalty,' Alice smiled.

'No. But it doesn't stop them doing it. The royal families of Christendom treat their sons and daughters like gaming pieces. Cousin marries cousin. Alliances are cemented and realms get bigger.'

'That could be preferable to fighting.'

'It comes at a price,' Harald returned the folios to her. 'King Henry's mother, Katherine, was the daughter of mad King Charles VI of France. Henry's father captured Charles after the Battle of Agincourt and married Katherine. It was his way of seizing the French throne.'

'I agree that Henry is almost certainly a victim of inbreeding.'

'Yes. But you must not say anything like that in public.' Harald raised a cautionary hand. 'Any disparaging remarks concerning the king's lineage could be regarded as treasonable.'

A man approached along the footpath. Alice had seen him before. He worked in the palace and was often there, exercising greyhounds. She suspected that another of his duties was to provide information to the royal spies.

'Good Morrow!'

They exchanged greetings as he passed.

Harald returned to their conversation. 'One wonders if it ever occurred to Henry V that, in marrying Katherine, he ran the risk of having children as mad as their French grandfather.'

'It would be helpful to know the nature of his grandfather's illness,' Alice said. 'I can only suppose that the queen's father has looked into it. René d'Anjou is a most talented and thoughtful man.'

Harald put his arm around her. 'My dear, if you are ever called before the queen, pour out your admiration for her esteemed father. She will love you for it.'

'What do you know about Charles VI?'

'He was a timid, sensitive man, born of a strong and resolute father.'

'Just like our King Henry,' Alice observed.

'Yes. And just like Henry, he couldn't cope with life when they made him king. His royal cousins caused him a lot of angst and his English relatives added to his troubles. On an expedition to Brittany, he ran amok and killed some of his entourage before he could be restrained. His court fell apart. He lost touch with reality and his nymphomaniac wife went from one lover to the next.'

'Are you saying King Henry's mother had two mad parents?'

'That would not be too great an exaggeration. But I wouldn't say it in public. As I have already remarked, that would be tantamount to treason.'

Alice grasped his arm. 'I can't cope with this.'

'What's the matter, my darling?'

'I can't be myself. Every moment of the day, I have to watch my tongue and think of what could happen if I say the wrong thing. I have to be alert for people who might be spying on us even when we are out walking like now. You and Steven can manage this sort of existence ... I can't.'

'It's not as difficult as you think, my darling.' Harald stopped and held her tight. 'All you have to do is follow a few simple rules.'

She wiped her eyes.

'First, don't venture anymore information than necessary. Second, take each new development as it comes …'

Alice listened as he gave advice. A short way off, the man with the greyhounds had stopped and was watching them. Her worse fears were being
realised
. They should never have come to Westminster. Few people were cut out for such a life. She wasn't surprised that King Henry's grandfather lost his sanity.

***

T
he women in the crowd made croaking noises. Then stones began to fly. They bounced off the roof of the carriage and the men of the guard lashed out with their poleaxes. Harald slammed down the shutters. Alice had wondered why royal coaches were so strongly built. Now she knew. They were made that way to protect the occupants from the London mob.

'French Whore!'

She guessed the venom was directed at her. That was nothing new. She had been through it in Normandy. There they yelled at her in French and called her an English whore. And they didn't croak. They barked to show their contempt for an English bitch.

Did they think she was Queen Margaret?

There wasn't time to think about it. People were screaming and whistles were blowing. She squinted through a gap in the shutters and saw uniformed men wearing the badge of the City of London. They waded into the crowd with truncheons and forced a passage for the carriage.

It hit something soft and rumbled on its way. Alice heard screaming and feared they had run over someone. The carriage turned corners. She lost all sense of direction and had no idea where they were when the coach stopped. A heavy door banged shut behind them and the carriage door was thrown open. They had arrived at the hospital of Saint Mary of Bethlehem, otherwise known as Bedlam.

An elegantly dressed man approached.

'Thank you for coming so promptly, my lady.'

She stepped from the carriage.

'The seigneur awaits your presence.'

He ignored Harald. Alice could scarcely believe what was happening. Did the man think Harald was her secretary or some other minion?

'This way, please.'

He swirled a gracious arm and indicated the direction she was expected to take. Alice picked up her skirts to lift them clear of the puddles in the forecourt. Servants appeared with a canopy to protect her from the rain. They crossed the forecourt and entered the stairway leading to John Arundel's chambers. She was being treated like royalty.

Who did they think she was?

The door swung open and her presence was announced.

'Sister Alice de Lambert.'

John Arundel stood waiting to greet her with another man. She had not seen the queen's father before but
recognised
him immediately from his portrait. René d'Anjou took a step forward, extended a welcoming hand and greeted her in French.

'Sister. This is a great pleasure.'

She curtsied and replied in the same language.

'Seigneur. The pleasure is mine.'

'Pray. No formalities. I am here incognito. You must call me René and I shall call you Alice.' He turned to Harald. 'Sir. I trust that you will be happy for me to call you Harald. I have read so many of your dispatches I feel that we are already acquainted.'

Harald stepped forward and bowed.

'I would like to take this opportunity of thanking the seigneur for his assistance in arranging a peaceful outcome to the conflict at Bayeux.' He spoke in the stilted French used in diplomatic circles and was cut short.

'Enough of such sad times.'

Count René gestured for them to be seated.