The Star of Lancaster - Plaidy Jean - Страница 48

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The two armies faced each other. Hotspur saw a priest break from the ranks and come riding towards him. He was Thomas Prestbury, the Abbot of Shrewsbury, and he had a message for Hotspur. It was this: Let him put himself at Henry's mercy and the battle should be called off.

Hotspur sent his uncle, Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, back to the King with his reply.

Henry said: *Come, Worcester, do you want innocent blood to be shed this day?'

*We seek justice, my lord,' replied Worcester.

Tut yourself on my grace.'

*I trust not in your grace,' was the answer.

'Then go to it,' cried Henry. *I pray God that you may have to answer for the blood that is spilt this day, and not I.'

Shortly after that encounter the battle began. A strong discharge of arrows came from both sides. It was a fierce fight. An arrow struck Harry in the face but he went on fighting.

'St George! St George!' cried Harry. The blood was streaming down his face but he ignored it. Excitement gripped him. Men were falling all about him and he was in the thick of the fight.

Hotspur was determined on victory. He wanted to slay the King with his own hands and with thirty or so of his most valiant knights he rode full tilt into the company about Henry. But the King and his men were a match for them and they were driven back.

It seemed then that the victory was going to Hotspur. Shouts for him filled the air. Harry stood firm. This was battle and he knew he was meant for it. He could scarcely feel the wound on his face.

He rallied his men about him and all forgot that he was but fifteen years old.

Hotspur was certain of victory. He was going to dethrone Henry. He was going to see the rightful heir on the throne; he was going to avenge Richard's death.

'Hotspur I' shouted the triumphant voices about him.

Then it happened. Flushed with imminent victory as he was, he did not see the arrow until it struck him. It pierced his brain and he fell from his horse—a dead man.

He did not hear the triumphant cry from the King's forces.

Hotspur was dead and his death decided the day.

It was the end of the battle and triumph for Henry.

The Duke of Brittany was dying. The Duchess Joanna nursed him herself but as she did so she could not prevent her thoughts straying to Henry of Lancaster and wondering how he was faring in England.

She had pressed the little blue flower he had given her.

Forget-me-not. That was what he had called it and she never would forget him.

He had on several occasions indicated the warmth of his feelings towards her and implied that had she not been the wife of the Duke there might have been a match between them. He was King now. Well, she was the daughter of a King and her mother had been the daughter of the King of France. There could be no question of her worthiness to become Queen of England.

News came now and then to Brittany of what was happening overseas. She knew that Henry had not married again. His time had been taken up first with seizing the throne and then holding it; and this she believed he was doing now.

There had been rumours about Richard's death. Some said he had been murdered. One version was that men had entered his cell and killed him. Another was that he had been starved to death. But the murderer in both cases had been named as Henry, for though, it was said, he may not have done the deed himself, he would have ordered others to do it.

It would have been necessary, argued Joanna.

She wondered whether he ever thought of her or whether his mind was completely taken up with the stirring events about him.

Suppose he sent for her, would she have been able to go to him? It would not be possible at this stage. She was forgetting her young son, now the Duke of Brittany and a minor. She could not leave him.

She feared Clisson; she knew that he had a very ambitious daughter, the wife of the Count of Penthievres, who believed that through him she had a greater claim to the throne of Brittany than Joanna's son.

Clisson was an honourable man, and although the rival claimant to the throne had married his daughter he had regarded the late Duke as the true heir to Brittany. Joanna believed she could treat with him.

In this she was proved right. She would promise concessions to Clisson; she would remain Regent and with his help rule the Duchy until her son was in a position to do so. The Duke of Burgundy, who was Joanna's uncle, and the King of France were to have guardianship of the Duchy and the young members of the family until they came of age.

Joanna had in fact shown great shrewdness in bringing

about this reconciliation for the power, wealth and popularity of Clisson if used against her could have robbed her son of his inheritance.

But once Clisson had given his word and signed the treaty he was as strong a supporter of the little Duke as Joanna could wish, which was proved when his daughter Marguerite, who had wanted the Dukedom for her husband, wTnt to her father in a state of great agitation and asked him why he worked against his own family. 'So much could depend on you,' she said. 'You could give us Brittany. It is my children's inheritance.'

'You ask too much,' Clisson had replied. 'The Duke of Burgundy is coming here. It may be he will take the children with him to the French Court. He is one of their guardians now.'

'Father,' cried the ambitious Marguerite, 'there is still time to remove them.'

'Remove them?' he answered. 'Are you mad?'

'You could have them killed. If they were no more, our path would be clear.'

Clisson was so overcome with horror that he cried out: 'What a wicked woman you are! You ask me to kill these innocent children. I would rather kill you.' And so great was his disgust that momentarily he meant it and drew his sword.

She, seeing the purpose in his eyes, turned and fled and in doing so fell headlong down a flight of stairs. She was always to remember that encounter for she broke her thigh bone which never healed properly and made her lame for the rest of her life.

The Duke of Burgundy arrived in Brittany and twelve year old Pierre who was now called John was invested with the ducal habit, circlet and sword and in the same ceremony his younger brothers Arthur and Jules were knighted.

Now that her son had been proclaimed Duke and he had the powerful Duke of Burgundy and King of France as his guardians, and Oliver Clisson had sworn to uphold him, Joanna felt herself to be free.

If Henry were to send for her she could go to him; but the Pope would never agree to the marriage she knew and how bring it about without that approval?

The fact was that the papal schism now existed and England supported Boniface who was called the anti-pope by those who

gave their allegiance to Benedict as Brittany did.

But Joanna was not of a nature to accept obstacles.

Henry had not yet suggested marriage and only he and she were aware of the feelings they had aroused in each other. She hit on a plan to ask the Pope's permission to marry anyone of her choice within the fourth degree of consanguinity. She had not very long been widowed; she was quite young so it seemed reasonable to predict that she might wish to marry again. So carefully was her plea to the Pope worded that he saw no reason why he should not give his consent and this he did, having no notion at all that the bridegroom she had in mind was that King whom Benedict would call a rebel.

Joanna was amused by her own cleverness.

When she sent word to Henry to tell him what she had done, he responded with alacrity. Let them be married by proxy without delay. Joanna then sent one of her squires, a certain Antoine Riczi, to England and there in the Palace of Eltham the proxy marriage took place.

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