“They took him to St.-Denis, my lady. The Duke of Berry made a speech over his open tomb. He said: ‘Lord have mercy on the soul of the most high and excellent Charles, King of France, sixth of the name.’”

I nodded…he was King until the end. Henry had agreed that he should retain the title until his death. I was glad that Henry had not robbed him of that, empty as it was.

“Immediately after the Duke of Berry had spoken, there followed a cry of ‘Long live King Henry, by the grace of God, King of France and of England!’”

I felt I could bear no more, so I thanked them for coming and dismissed them. I wanted to be alone.

There were so many memories…and all sad ones. I wondered about my mother. What was she doing now? She was no longer Queen of France. That was no loss to France. I was filled with a deep resentment toward her. Much of the tragedy which had befallen my father and his country was due to her. And now where was she? I doubted not that she would be looking after herself. She would have her luxuries…her pets…her lovers. And she would not shed a tear for that poor tragic man whose life and whose country she had helped to bring to disaster.

But what was the use of recriminations, of brooding on the past? I had to go on with my life. I was in a new land. I had become a widow. Perhaps they would send me back to France. But I was the mother of their King, so they could hardly do that. I must think of my son. Therein lay my future. I must forget my tragic past. My allegiance was to my new country.

I went to the nursery and gazed down on my sleeping child—King Henry of France and England.

The Duke of Gloucester called at Windsor.

What a handsome man he was! Far more attractive in a way than his brother of Bedford. He wore his hair closely cropped, as Henry had worn his. It was the best style for a soldier; and because it had been favored by the King, it had become fashionable. That would change now, I supposed, with his passing. But just now Henry was very much with us. Humphrey had a love of fine clothes, which Henry, being mostly at war, had no time for. He now wore a blue houppelande caught in at the waist with a jeweled belt. The full sleeves billowed out, and his long pointed shoes were the same color as his houppelande.

He studied me with a mixture of appreciation and speculation, as I guessed he did all women. His eyes were rather like Henry’s, but Henry’s had been clearer. Under Humphrey’s were the beginnings of pouches, which was an indication, I believed, of his indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh. I knew that he was quite unlike Henry in character and temperament. He liked good living; and wine and women played an important part in his life. Yet there was a certain aestheticism about him which was an intriguing contrast to that side of his nature. He was a great lover of the fine arts.

Bedford was more like Henry in character than Humphrey would ever be—though a pale shadow of him.

I was beginning to think that Humphrey’s life was guided by an overweening ambition.

“My lady Queen, my dear sister,” he said, taking both my hands and kissing one after another. “This is a grievous time for us both. How sad my heart is for myself…and for you.”

“You are kind, my lord.”

“I would there was something I could do to alleviate the pain you are suffering. Henry was a wonderful husband…a wonderful brother. There has never been, nor ever will be another such as he.”

“I believe that to be true. I believe, too, that I must congratulate you on your marriage.”

“You are most kind.”

“I was surprised to hear of it. The King knew nothing of it, I believe.”

“No. It happened after his death.”

“My lord Bedford …”

Humphrey raised his eyebrows. “Speak not of it, sweet sister. I have had scolding enough from that quarter.”

“It was a dangerous thing to do, perhaps.”

“But love laughs at danger.”

“Yes, I suppose so. And my kinsman, the Duke of Burgundy, what thinks he of the match?”

“Ranting and raging, I doubt not. Poor little Brabant being his kinsman, Burgundy will have his eyes on Jacqueline’s possessions.”

“I daresay you propose to win them back for her.”

He smiled at me and bowed his head. “We shall see what happens,” he said. “In the meantime I am here on a mission. I looked after our little King well during your absence. Do you agree?”

“Yes, and I thank you.”

“It was a sacred duty. He is an important little boy…the most important in the land. He will help you overcome your sorrow, I trust.”

“I know he will, and I am grateful to you for acting as his guardian while I was out of the kingdom.”

“It was a pleasure as well as a duty. If anything had happened to that child, I should have had to answer to the people. They will adore him when they see him.”

“He is too young as yet to be exposed to the people.”

“Oh, give him a taste of it. I’ll warrant he’ll love to hear the people shout for him. Which brings me to the proposition which I have been commissioned to put to you. Parliament is to be meeting in a week. The Council has decided that the monarch should be present.”

“My baby!”

“Yes, madam. You will drive through the streets of London with the child on your lap. I can promise you it will be a most affecting sight.”

“But…he is too young.”

Gloucester lifted his shoulders. “He is already a king. He will have to grow accustomed to seeing the people. He cannot begin too soon. You will be with him all the time. And…it is the wish of the Council. I think you should prepare to come to London.”

I looked at him in dismay. It was clear to me that the peaceful days were over.

So I went to London for the meeting of Parliament, and I rode through the streets seated on what looked like a throne set up on a chariot, and on my lap was my baby son.

How he delighted them! There is nothing like a baby to touch the hearts of the people. They marveled at him; and indeed he played his part magnificently. I had feared he might scream and cry, but instead he seemed very interested in everything that was going on. Only when the shouts were particularly loud did his little fingers curl more tightly about my hand.

They had dressed him in fine robes, which pleased him. He kept stroking the cloth of gold and velvet and chuckling to himself.

He had quickly grown accustomed to me, and there were times when I thought he knew that I was his mother.

Guillemote said I had weaned his affection from her and that I was the important one with him now. That delighted her as much as it did me. Guillemote was a good woman—a mother to me in my early days and one of the best friends I ever had.

There he sat, my little one, interested in the crowds and music and appearing to listen with solemnity when the proclamations were read out in his name.

I sensed the loyalty of the crowds. Their great hero was dead, but he had left them his son who one day would be a great king.

That was the mood of the people that day.

· · ·

I returned to Windsor, glad to be back but still glowing from my son’s triumph in winning the hearts of the people of London.

I felt I was moving away from my sorrow, and if they would allow me to keep my son, I could be happy. But I knew, of course, that that was hardly likely.

For a year I was left in peace—if peace it could be called, to be continually in fear that something could happen at any moment to disrupt it.

I think I was fortunate to be left so long undisturbed. There were reasons, of course.

It has often amazed me how significant a part Humphrey of Gloucester played in my life, for I think it was largely due to him that I was, at this time, left in peace. I do not mean that he arranged it. Humphrey was not the man to concern himself with other people’s comfort. But this reckless marriage of his with Jacqueline of Bavaria had caused such anxiety to Bedford and those about him that they could give little thought to anything else.

The King was a baby. He was with his mother and her household, so there was no immediate need for him to be a concern of the State—even though he was King—until he was a little older. His affairs could be dealt with later.

The great trouble was that Jacqueline had been married—still was, some believed—to the Duke of Brabant. Burgundy had arranged that marriage and was eager for those rich provinces which Jacqueline had inherited to remain with the Burgundians. And now Gloucester was threatening to take them.

I knew there was trouble between Bedford and Gloucester and that Bedford said this could never have happened if Henry had lived. He would never have allowed Gloucester to marry Jacqueline while the help of Burgundy was necessary to England. Gloucester had placed that in jeopardy and had done a great disservice to his country.

Gloucester snapped his fingers at Bedford and was, so I heard, planning to take a force to the Continent, not to help his brother consolidate Henry’s gains as he should have done but to fight his own little war for the possession of Hainault, Holland, Zealand and Friesland.

In the secrecy of our royal nursery I said to Guillemote: “Perhaps we should be grateful to Gloucester.”

She looked at me with an expression in her eyes which told me she was cautioning me.

“I know, I know,” I said. “He is undermining England’s cause. But let us be frank with each other, dear Guillemote: but for that, they might be turning their attention to us.”

She admitted that was so.

“I dread the day when they make their plans. They will take him from me, Guillemote. I could not bear that.”