The Queen's Choice

I shook my head, sighing as I stretched on my bed, trying for comfort as my ankles throbbed. ‘Hand me my rosary, Marie. I have need of a self-inflicted penance.’

A small flame that had been lit in some far recess still flickered, but of course it had not been lit for him. Earl Henry had been blessed with true love with his wife, now sadly departed this life. I closed my eyes as I spread my hands on my belly where the child grew, confident in the knowledge that my own strange discomforts would soon vanish.

Early pregnancy made a woman overly imaginative.

*

A grand hunt brought to conclusion the wedding of Richard and Isabelle. We made a combined party, it becoming evident that the Lancaster family was as fiercely keen on hunting as we were in Brittany. An occasion of much laughter and chatter, of reminiscence and proposals for future meetings. My pregnancy offering no hindrance to my participation, when we halted in a clearing in the woodland to draw breath, I found myself in the close company of Earl Henry.

I had been aware of him, riding in the forefront, from the moment the royal huntsman had given us the office to start, and I had seen enough of him to know that he was a peerless proponent of the sport. Not that I had watched him, of course. Riding at a more sedate pace, not always of my own choosing, beside Duchess Katherine, I had made the most of the opportunity to darn the holes in my knowledge of this family.

Now it was Earl Henry who manoeuvred his horse to my side while I determined to keep him at an amicable distance. I noticed that he had dispensed with the white hart on his gold livery collar.

‘I see you number horsemanship amongst your many talents, Madam Joanna.’

‘As you have a silken tongue amongst yours, sir,’ I replied smartly. ‘This wretched animal, lent to me by my uncle of Burgundy, has barely extended herself out of a slow trot.’

He smiled at me. And I smiled back.

And there was that same intensity that had unsettled me on the previous day. A sense of closeness, of keen understanding. More than that. Like the click of a key turning in the lock of a jewel coffer so that all the intricate parts slid smoothly together as if our acquaintance was of long-standing. Why should I resist? Why should I not take him as my friend? I had few outside my immediate family. The household in which I had been raised in Navarre, redolent with suspicion and vicious deeds, had not encouraged friendship. I would enjoy what this man had to offer me, and it would be no sin.

This thought in your mind is not friendship, a whisper in my mind.Don’t pretend that it is. This is entirely different. Have a care.

Wary now, even dismayed, I hid it behind a light smile and even lighter remark.

‘That is a fine falcon you have, my lord.’

The Earl reached across to take the bird from his falconer, removing her hood, then one of his gauntlets so that he could run his hand affectionately over her head and wings. The finely marked bird bobbed her head and shook out her pinions.

‘She is beautiful,’ he agreed, indulgently possessive. ‘She was bred from my own birds at Hertford. She is inordinately partial to chicken, when she can get it.’

‘Extravagant!’

‘If she is worth her value to me, then it behoves me to feed her well.’

I stroked the feathers of her neck, admiring the fervour of this man in his appreciation for his hunting hawk. ‘What will you do after this gathering, my lord? I hear you have been on Crusade.’ Having discovered as much from Duchess Katherine.

‘And I might again,’ the Earl was replying as, with dexterous fingers, one-handed, he re-hooded the falcon. ‘I have a desire to return to Jerusalem. To stand before the Holy Sepulchre and experience God’s infinite grace. But I’m more like to go back to England. To see my own children, to take over some of the administration of the Lancaster estates. I have two young daughters as well as four sons to raise. The boys are as strong and active as a small herd of hill ponies. I think you have sons. You’ll know what I mean.’

His enthusiasm was compulsive. ‘Indeed I do.’

‘And then…’

Gravity descended, like an obscuring shadow. I considered it to be born of a concern long held, some bone of contention long debated. I saw it in John when he broached some intricate matter of business, most often Breton trade disputes with our mercantile neighbours.

‘Is there a problem for you at home, sir?’

Handing the falcon to John who, approaching, was eyeing the bird with some envy, Earl Henry considered for a moment, then replied with striking frankness:

‘I have a need to return. Sometimes it seems to me that my position in England is under a subtle duress. I am being pushed to the margins of political life. Positions and dignities are given elsewhere. My cousin Edward of York is preferred before me, even though as heir to Lancaster my supremacy is unquestionable.’

So here was pride again. And rightly so. With the death of two of King Edward’s sons, Edward of Woodstock and Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the Lancaster heirs with their true male line were foremost in the land after the King Richard. As I had suspected, the hostility between Earl Henry and King Richard, first cousins though they might be, was not merely a remnant of childhood tussles in the mud.

‘Richard fears me,’the Earl said, the line between his brows dug deep. ‘I dare not be absent from England any longer. It might give our King the opportunity to find some means of casting a pall of disgrace over my family. That must not be. My father is ageing. The duty is mine to protect and hold fast to what we have, and fight for what we should have.’

‘Why would he fear you?’ I asked bluntly. ‘Do you threaten him?’

‘It has to be said that I did,’ the Earl admitted. ‘In my youth I was one of the five Lords Appellant who forced Richard to rule more circumspectly after we removed his favourite de Vere from the scene. A decade ago now, but it will rankle still. Richard hadn’t the strength to oppose us then, but he has never forgiven us.’

Which explained a lot. ‘Hardly the basis for a sound friendship.’

‘As you say. Although why I am burdening you with this, on a fine hunting day, I have no clear idea.’

‘Because I can be a good listener,’ I said.

He looked at me, eyes as incisively watchful as those of the hawk on John’s fist, but there was a smile there too.

‘So that’s why I’ve been lured into this eddy of self-pity. Would you tell me that all is lost, between Lancaster and the King?’

I thought about it as my mare tossed her head, deceptively eager to be on the move. ‘I think you could well redeem yourself. I think you should…’ I stopped. I was in no position to give him advice. He would find me intrusive at best, unjustified at worst.

Earl Henry tilted his head. ‘Do you advise your husband in matters of government?’

‘Most certainly I do.’

‘Does he accept it?’

I thought about this. ‘Sometimes.’ And paused under John’s sudden acerbic scrutiny. ‘Often.’

‘Almost always,’ John added from behind my shoulder. ‘I would not dare do otherwise. She has a rare talent for seeing the smoothest road between two irreconcilable parties. I’d take her advice if I were you.’

He rode off, still in possession of the hawk, leaving me to collect my composure.

‘Then tell me, Madam Joanna. What should I do?’

‘You should go home. Be gracious and charming on all occasions. Never criticise Richard’s choice of counsellors. Make friends with your cousin of York…’

I hesitated, seeing a glint of speculation in his eye.

‘Don’t stop now. I stand corrected and ashamed for all past behaviour.’

How could I not continue? The rich wine of European government and intrigue ran in my blood. ‘Then this is what I think. Set your jaw and tolerate Richard’s behaviour towards you. It may be nothing more than jealousy and spite. He cannot harm you. You have your own authority over your Lancaster lands. How can he destroy your illustrious name? Give him gifts on every possible occasion and make yourself pleasant to Isabelle. You have daughters. You know how to do it. She likes dolls.’

‘What excellent advice.’ And then, smoothing the leather of his reins between his fingers as he considered:‘There is some pressure on me to marry again. It has been two years since Mary’s death. I have resisted taking a new wife so soon, but it would be wise, even if I have no need of an heir. A strong alliance with one of our English families would be good policy. It behoves me to do it, whatever my personal inclination.’

A coldly sobering thought that took me aback, when it should not have. Were we not surrounded by death; by marriage and remarriage to tie powerful families with bonds of blood and allegiance? Would John feel a reluctance to remarry if I were to die within a few months in childbirth? Or would he wed again within the year? I was his third wife. He might happily take a fourth, and why should he not? Marriage for us was a matter of politics, not of passion, and Brittany must look to the security of her borders. My husband would be looking for another bride, and perhaps another Valois princess, within the week of my death. Which made me observe, with an intimacy I could not claim:

‘You were fortunate indeed, sir.’