Root of the Tudor Rose (24 page)

‘Is His Highness ready, Joan?' Catherine asked as she came into the nursery followed by the Earl of Warwick.

‘He is, my Lady, but I don't think he likes his clothes very much.'

‘I'm not surprised,' said Catherine. ‘I don't like them either.' She had no idea who had made the decision that the child should be dressed up like a big doll. She suspected Elizabeth Ryman, probably acting on the instructions of Humphrey of Gloucester. It was just easier not to interfere.

‘I think His Highness looks very fine,' said the Earl of Warwick, putting his face close to the baby's and adopting the faintly silly tone of adults trying to arouse a baby's interest. ‘And he'll look even more the king when he has his orb and sceptre, won't you, sire?' The Earl held out the miniature gold sceptre to Henry who grabbed it from his hand. He looked at it for a moment and then tried to put it in his mouth.

‘No, no, Your Highness, you mustn't eat it!' said the Earl, trying to pull the King's hand away from his mouth. Henry clenched his little fist around the heavy, solid gold sceptre and, with a sudden movement, hit the Earl over the head with it, just above the eye, really quite hard. The Earl flinched and bit his tongue before smiling as though nothing had happened.

‘My Lord!' Catherine was all dismay. ‘Let me see your forehead. Oh dear, I'm afraid you're going to have quite a swelling there. I'm so sorry. I'm sure His Highness didn't mean it.'

‘No, of course he didn't, Ma'am. Please, don't give it a moment's thought.'

‘I have a little paste of comfrey root, my Lady,' said Joan Astley. ‘I always keep some to hand in case the King should happen to fall and cut himself. If His Lordship will permit me to apply a poultice of it to his forehead, it will help to take the swelling down.'

They entered Parliament an hour later with Queen Catherine walking a few steps in front of the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. The whole procession was led by His Highness the King, still brandishing his miniature gold sceptre, in the arms of the Earl of Warwick whose good-natured countenance was rather marred by the rapidly darkening bruise around his half-closed eye. An amused murmur ran around the chamber of the House as everyone tried to guess how the Earl, so soon to be married to a famously domineering wife, had come by such a painful-looking swelling.

Catherine did not attend the Earl of Warwick's wedding to the Lady Isabella, though she was pleased to hear that the bridegroom's black eye had disappeared in time for the ceremony at the end of November. By then, Catherine had taken his advice in the matter of her dower lands. Other than what the Earl had told her, she really had little idea of precisely what constituted her inheritance.

She informed Sir Walter Hungerford that she would like to know more about her properties and where they were situated. Sir Walter was delighted to realise that she was taking an interest in her future in England and suggested that a list of her dower lands should be drawn up, including facts and figures, staffing levels, tenants, rents, and income for each one. Perhaps he could even arrange to have copies made of some precious maps, so that she could study all this information at her leisure. He thought that two of the royal clerks could begin work on the project immediately so that she could soon have a document which would help her pinpoint exactly where her properties were and the value of each one.

Several days into the job, Gilbert got up from his chair, yawned, and stretched his back luxuriously. ‘Do you think the Queen will ever visit all these properties?' he asked.

‘I'd like to think that she will visit Anglesey,' said Owen, ‘though it will take her weeks to get there, with all the cartloads of belongings she'll be taking with her.'

‘That's where you come from, isn't it?'

‘Yes, a place called Penmynydd. It means “top of the mountain” but the strange thing is that it's in the flattest part of the whole island!'

‘I always said the Welsh were illogical,' said Gilbert, though he had never said so before and had no idea why he said it now.

Owen ignored him, remembering the long journey south nearly a year ago. ‘It took me months to get here,' he said. ‘I wasn't in any hurry, mind. Just as well, really, because I met a man in Shrewsbury who slowed me down quite a bit. We decided to travel together and he talked nearly all the way about his dreams of becoming a glover, of all things, in London.'

Gilbert laughed. ‘He probably believed that old chestnut about the streets being paved with gold,' he said.

They had all but finished their work a few days later when Sir Walter Hungerford came bustling in to the Library.

‘Quick!' he said. ‘Quickly, tidy the place up, for heaven's sake. Her Highness the Queen is on her way to see you.' He bent to pick up some stray scraps of parchment off the floor. Owen and Gilbert began gathering together quills, ink, parchment, and powder. Owen was trying to rub an ink stain off his middle finger when the door opened again.

‘Your Highness,' Sir Walter Hungerford bowed extravagantly. He hoped that, behind him, Owen and Gilbert were doing the same. He hadn't had time to remind them and good manners were so important. He wouldn't want to upset the Queen.

‘Good afternoon, Sir Walter.' Queen Catherine entered the room with her ladies. ‘Please, would you introduce the two gentlemen who have been working on my documents. I look forward so much to seeing what they've been doing.'

‘Of course, my Lady. This is Master Gilbert Wilkins. He has been in our service for five years now and is highly skilled in the copying of maps. And this is Master –'

‘Master Tudor! I didn't know that you were one of the gentlemen Sir Walter recommended so highly.'

Sir Walter Hungerford's jaw dropped as he saw the Queen's dazzling smile directed at the clerk. It almost seemed as though there was no one else in the room. Owen Tudor bowed again. ‘I was deeply honoured, Your Highness, to have been chosen for the work. Both Master Wilkins and I felt very privileged to be of service to you.' He was at pains to encompass his colleague in his response.

‘Then tell me, Master Tudor,' said the Queen, ‘is the work finished yet?'

‘Indeed, Ma'am, we finished it today. We were going to ask Sir Walter to present it to you in the morning.'

‘But I want to see it now. Please, show me.'

Sir Walter stood to one side as Owen and Gilbert spread out sheets of parchment on a table for the Queen to inspect. She exclaimed with pleasure at the maps, wanting Gilbert to show her exactly where Westminster was, where Knaresborough was in relation to York, and where Glamorgan was in relation to Monmouth. She wanted to know where Flintshire was, then Anglesey.

‘Master Tudor should tell you about Anglesey, Ma'am,' said Gilbert. ‘It is his home.'

‘Is that so, Master Tudor? Then, please be so kind as to show me where your home is.'

‘This is the island, my Lady, just off the coast of North Wales.' Catherine bent over the map and, standing so close to Owen, she was surprised by a strong urge to stroke the soft dark hairs on the back of his wrist where he had pushed up his sleeve. She followed his finger as it traced the route to Penmynydd.

‘My home is almost in the centre of the island. Gilbert has inscribed the English name on the map but the Welsh name for Anglesey is Ynys Môn. The Island of Mona.'

‘Is that so?' Catherine, aware of the effect that Owen Tudor was having on her, kept her head down, hoping she wasn't blushing. ‘How interesting. And is it very beautiful?'

‘Very beautiful, Ma'am. In fact, it is a well-kept secret that when Our Lord created Wales, he made the most beautiful country he possibly could, with high mountains and deep lakes, with delightful little streams trickling down the valleys.' Owen, enjoying the rapt attention of the Queen, began to embroider the tale. ‘Yes, the Lord crafted this wonderful country so lovingly that the Archangel Gabriel questioned whether any country could possibly be so perfect and whether there were any disadvantages in living there. The Lord replied that, sadly, there was one disadvantage: the people who lived in Wales would have the world's most obnoxious neighbours!'

There was a long, embarrassed silence. Every face in the room was totally impassive until the Queen had reacted to Owen Tudor's joke. He watched her face as his own creased into a huge smile. Then, after a pause, the Queen laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, you mean the English! Yes, yes, of course, the English are the … what was it? … the obnoxious neighbours! Master Tudor, it is very wicked of you to say such a thing!' She laughed again and, reassured, her ladies tittered behind their hands. Gilbert let out a huge guffaw and even Sir Walter emitted a sound which rather resembled a neighing horse.

‘I trust you are pleased with the work, my Lady,' he said, thinking that he would really have to have a word with the Welshman. How dare he tell crass little jokes to Her Royal Highness the Queen like some court jester! Who did he think he was?

The Queen had noticed his look of annoyance. ‘I'm delighted with the work, Sir Walter. It is exactly what I needed and, please, don't think badly of Master Tudor. I did enjoy his amusing story. Indeed, it might even apply to France and her neighbour Spain! You must remember that he and I are both foreigners in England.' She turned to Owen and Gilbert. ‘However, thanks to you two gentlemen, I now have a very much clearer idea about my new, adopted country. I'm very grateful to you both. Good afternoon to you.' She turned to leave the room as the three men bowed again.

As soon as she and her ladies had left, Sir Walter rounded furiously on Owen. ‘What on earth possessed you to tell the Queen that stupid story?' he fumed. Then, as Owen grinned engagingly, so Sir Walter's anger suddenly subsided and again he made the curious neighing sound which passed for laughter. Really, he thought, the Welshman wasn't the kind of person you could stay angry with for long. No wonder the Queen was so charmed by him.

Sir Walter was to remember the expression of pleasure on the Queen's face a few weeks later when Sir William Gifford, the seneschal of the castle, approached him with a problem. Gifford was a thin man with hunched shoulders, his face lined with the constant worry of staffing and running a huge household. He relied heavily on those staff members who held responsibility for various aspects of castle administration and worked well with their teams. He was delighted with the work of Anton, the French chef, and perfectly happy to leave the ordering of food supplies and the organisation of the kitchens to him, particularly now that the problem with his spice merchant had been resolved. The merchant in question had been cheating the system for years, growing proudly plump on the proceeds of his crime. It had taken a bit of clever financial investigation on the part of a shrewd castle clerk to identify the felon but when the merchant had been exposed for the trickster he was, Gifford was pleased to be able to tell him to his fat face that legal proceedings were already under way and that he could expect to be pilloried.

Now Sir William Gifford's problem was a very different one. In this case, Richard Hinton, the Clerk of the Queen's Wardrobe and one of his most trusted castle servants, had become increasingly blind over the past few years and had finally told him that he could no longer continue with his duties. Things had come to a head two days ago. The Queen had asked Hinton to procure some fine silk in her favourite sage green with a view to having a gown made for her niece Joan's forthcoming wedding to James of Scotland. Hinton had infuriated her by purchasing an inferior quality silk in light blue. Being a man who had hitherto always prided himself on his work, he had been deeply upset about the incident. He simply hadn't been able to appreciate the poor quality of the fabric nor tell the difference between the two colours.

Sir Walter was concerned. ‘Has Hinton tried bathing his eyes in beer?' he asked. ‘They say it is very beneficial.'

‘He has. And it seems that his wife has also persuaded him to try warm bat's blood, but it's difficult to come by and he has had no great relief from it.'

‘You'll be needing another Clerk of the Wardrobe, then. Had you anyone in mind?'

‘No. That's why I wanted to talk to you.'

‘Perhaps we should discuss it with Her Highness,' said Sir Walter. ‘I will request an audience with her.'

They went together to see the Queen the following afternoon. The Clerk of the Queen's Wardrobe was a senior staff position and a sensitive appointment, because whoever held the office would have to see a great deal of Her Royal Highness. It was crucially important that she should approve the choice and be able to trust the incumbent to oversee not only the purchase of fabrics, furs, and personal effects but also to be accountable for the safety and care of her jewellery, plate, and valuables and to supervise the work of her seamstresses, laundresses, and personal staff. It was a position of great responsibility.

Catherine welcomed them warmly. ‘Sir William,' she said as the seneschal bowed low over her hand, ‘I haven't seen you for some time. Is there a crisis in the household?'

‘I'm afraid there is, Ma'am. We've come to see you about the Clerk of your Wardrobe.'

‘Master Hinton? I'm very displeased with him. I had intended talking to you about it.'

‘My Lady, it appears that he is rapidly going blind and there is little that can be done about it. This is the reason …' he didn't finish his sentence before the Queen interrupted him.

‘Going blind! But he said nothing. The poor man. Has he tried bat's blood?'

‘Apparently so, Ma'am. It seems that he has tried all known remedies but to no avail.'

‘Then that's why he's been behaving so strangely of late. I should not have been so quick to judge him. It's really not his fault that he's losing his sight.'

She rose from her chair and walked to the window, weighing up the problem in her mind. Turning back, she said: ‘If he has to leave my service because of his blindness, Sir Walter, there must be a way of offering him a small pension. If there's a problem, it can come from the account which pays for my personal staff.'