The Star of Lancaster (50 page)

‘What a sad life,’ said Marie. ‘One would be happier dedicated to the service of God.’

Marie was growing more and more remote every day. When she heard that Henry the King of England wanted to marry her she said she would never marry anyone. That had decided her. She wanted her father to understand that she longed for the peace of the convent and that marriage had no charms for her.

Of course Princesses must do what they were bid. But their father was a kind man. It was to be hoped that Marie was not forced into marriage during one of his dark spells by their mother who had emerged from her captivity and was making her presence at Court felt again.

‘He wanted Isabella,’ said Marie. ‘I have heard that he was
in love with her when he was only the son of the Duke of Hereford, that was before his father took the throne from Richard. Isabella would have none of him. She would have none of any but Richard.’

‘But she took Charles of Orléans.’

‘Yes, because she was forced to. I heard she cried all through the ceremony.’

‘Poor poor Isabella!’

‘She is dead now. How much better to give one’s life to God.’

The news of the terrible defeat at Agincourt eventually came to the convent.

Katherine, who was now fourteen years old, realised the implication of this. The English were victorious. They would overrun France and her father might even lose his crown for that was what Henry of England was fighting for.

It was terrifying, for what hope had her father of holding off the enemy when his country was beset by internal strife. Ever since the murder of Orléans there had been a feud between Orléans and Burgundy; and in the centre of it was her poor father with his unstable mind and a wife who was renowned for her rapacity and her adulterous intrigues.

She was not altogether surprised when messengers arrived at the convent.

It was not Marie they had come for, but Katherine.

‘Your presence is required at Court, my lady,’ was the command.

Marie embraced her warmly, but Katherine was aware of her sister’s relief.

‘It will be marriage for you,’ Marie said. ‘This means that I am to be allowed to stay here. I shall thank God for this blessing and, dear sister, I shall pray for you.’

So Katherine rode out to her father’s Court. She had realised that the sequestered life of the convent was not for her.

She was received by her father and she clung to him for she was so happy to see that his eyes were clear and that there was no madness in them.

‘Dear little daughter,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘How well you look, and how beautiful you have grown. You seem happy and that rejoices me. Be happy while you can, dear child. Sad things are happening to France.’

‘Dear lord father, nothing could bring me more happiness than to see you well’

‘Pray God that I stay so until such time as I see you happily settled.’

‘It is some marriage you have in mind for me.’

‘Yes, child, with the King of England.’

‘Henry. The one who asked for Isabella . . . and Marie . . .’

‘He wants a Princess of France.’

‘And I am the only one available.’

‘Dear child, it will be a brilliant marriage. Think, my love, you will be a queen.’

‘Isabella was a queen. It did not make her very happy.’

‘Ah, this is different. She was married to Richard . . . a weakling.’

‘She loved him dearly.’

‘It was no true marriage. She was but a child. She saw him rarely and he treated her like a pet daughter. Henry is different. There is one who is seated firmly on his throne. You will admire him, grow to love him and become the mother of kings.’

‘Oh no, Father. Let me be here for a while just as your daughter.’

‘It seems that you will,’ said the King grimly, ‘for the terms he asks are excessive and we cannot meet them.’

She sighed with relief.

‘You know that we were defeated at Agincourt,’ went on the King. ‘It was a disastrous defeat. We had superior forces . . . but they were too much for us. With a small army decimated by dysentery and disease yet he came with his archers and our losses were great, his small. It seems he is another such as his great-grandfather and the Black Prince. If so, with France in its present state we cannot stand against them. He makes great demands and one of these is your hand. If it is not granted he says he will come and take what he wants. A strange way of wooing, I told him, to come to you covered by the blood of your countrymen.’

‘And what said he to that?’

‘His answer was that he is a soldier with a soldier’s way and he doubted not when you became his bride you would become used to his ways.’

She put her hand in her father’s. ‘I am afraid,’ she said.

Her father looked very sad and she went on: ‘But I must do my duty and I promise you, Father, that if it is necessary to marry this man, I will do it willingly for France.’

‘My good child,’ said the King and seemed about to burst into tears.

She wanted to tell him that the prospect was not entirely displeasing to her. She wanted to experience marriage and she wanted her husband to be a strong man, a man who knew what he wanted, who would not be cursed by the grim shadow of madness. The victor of Agincourt, the man who claimed he
would conquer and subdue France – yes, he seemed a worthy husband for a princess.

It was a sad time. Negotiations had failed. Henry demanded too much. Louis the Dauphin, who had been so full of health and had tauntingly sent Henry the tennis balls, had died suddenly. He had never recovered from the shame of Agincourt, it was said. He had been so certain that he was going to bring Henry as his prisoner to Paris – or at least his head on a pike. After the outcome he had been plunged into melancholy, and one day his attendants went into his apartment and found him dead. Of a broken heart, they said.

Prince Jean had become Dauphin and, when after a few months he was stricken by some mysterious disease which killed him within days, people began to say that there was a blight on France. This was a sign. The King mad, two of his sons dying within a short time of each other; the English triumphantly ranging all over the country. What could it mean?

There was a new Dauphin, Charles. The Queen was accused of poisoning her sons; the King had lapsed into madness; there was plague and famine in Paris.

What will happen next? Katherine asked herself.

The first thing that happened was the arrival of the Queen in Paris. She came at once to Katherine.

She was still so beautiful that Katherine could not help gazing at her in admiration. The Queen embraced her daughter and there were tears in her magnificent eyes.

‘My dearest child,’ she cried. Her dearest child – whom she had left to starve in the palace of St Pol, in whose welfare she
had shown no interest until this moment! Katherine was taken aback but she felt the old fascination creeping over her and she remembered how as a child she had hidden in cramped positions hoping for a chance to get a glimpse of the glorious goddess.

‘Why are you here, my lady? I had thought you were at Tours.’

‘I have escaped. Yes, I have left my prison at Tours. I am needed here and my great concern is your future . . . and that of France. For they are one and the same. You can save France, Katherine.’

‘How so?’

‘You are beautiful. You take after me, dear child.’

‘Oh no, no. I could never be like you.’

‘Perhaps not. Still you have beauty and that is always a good thing to have. I’ll swear that when he sees you he will find you irresistible. He was a wild young man in his youth. Always fond of women. Oh yes, he will find he must have you. It is our way out of this dismal state which would never have happened if I had not been shut away . . . if Louis had never died . . . Never mind, Katherine. You and I are going to save France.’

‘How, my lady?’

‘First I want a picture painted of you. I want him to see that lovely face . . . it is just the shape of mine; the large dark eyes. Yes, it will mean a good deal when he sees your portrait.’

‘I wish I was not to be handed to him as part of a treaty.’

The Queen sighed. ‘It is something we of royal blood must be reconciled to, Katherine. Think, you will be Queen of England and there will be an end to these senseless wars.’

‘What if they send you back to Tours?’

‘I have a strong ally,’ she said. ‘Burgundy is with me now.’

Burgundy! Orléans! It mattered not to her which it was.
What she wanted was alliance with the one who could bring her power.

Rouen was about to fall into his hands. He could not fail. France was crumbling. This was the time to press home his advantages.

Poor mad Charles would have to give in; it was a stroke of good fortune for Henry that Dauphin Louis had died – although he had hoped to get even with him for that tennis ball insult. And then Jean. Such events were invaluable for striking terror into a nation.

They saw God’s displeased hand in this.

God was on the side of England. It had been obvious at Agincourt when a small English army had been so completely victorious.

While he was in camp before Rouen calculating that before another day had passed the town would be his, messengers arrived from the Court of France.

They had something for him. A portrait.

Eagerly he scanned it. She was young and beautiful and she had a look of Isabella. Isabella had been his first love and he had never quite forgotten her. Perhaps she was not as beautiful as he had imagined her; but he remembered first seeing her and most of all he remembered her devotion to Richard. He wanted someone like that, someone to love him, to adore him, to remain faithful throughout his life.

Katherine of France looked very like her sister. The same dark eyes, the oval-shaped face, the masses of dark hair and the resolute set of the lips.

I’ll have her, he thought. Before long she shall be my wife.

Rouen had fallen; the King was at Melun. Something had to be done.

A meeting was arranged between the Queen and her daughter with Henry. It was to take place at Pontoise.

On the banks of the river tents and pavilions had been set up. They were as elegant as the French could make them – in blue and green velvet ornamented with gold. It was a brilliant occasion and in the royal barge richly decorated with the fleur de lys Katherine came with her mother and the Duke of Burgundy. Her father was unable to accompany them because of another spell of madness.