Chapter Seven
Late October 1399: Palace of Westminster
I sank into a faultless obeisance. I had prepared my speech and must now deliver it as persuasively as I was able, without stirring Henry to further political retribution. My pride flinched, but there was no one else to do it. I had left Joan once more on her knees, trembling in horror. My father had not yet left his chamber.
‘My lord…’ I kept my head bowed.
I was given no opportunity to make my case.
‘Stand up, Constance. I know what you want. You can say nothing that I do not already know.’
King Henry had his back to me and did not turn. I had not seen him since the coronation, since when his hair had been cropped short, giving weight to the rumour of an infestation of lice. At his feet sat the returned greyhound. I could not read his mood but the set of his shoulders and the timbre of his voice were not encouraging. I had been shown into one of his private chambers which was littered with books and documents, a prie-dieu in a corner with an open missal beside it. I had found myself hoping that Henry’s prayers had moved him to reconsider. His greeting destroyed any such hope.
Anger was a hard knot in my throat but I would not be deflected. There was only one reason for my being here in the royal apartments. Who would plead for mercy, if I did not? I had chosen formality rather than cousinly warmth, my over-gown enclosed to the throat and severely undecorated. My veiling was almost nun-like, more worthy of Joan’s choice of all-confining crispinette, as I continued smoothly, despite the uneven thump of my heart.
‘I know that you have many demands on your time, my lord. But I would ask, I would beg, on your mercy…’
‘I have no mercy.’
At last he turned, casting aside the document he had been perusing, and I inhaled at what I read in his eyes. They were uncompromising, bleakly unemotional. Henry was now King of England and had my life in the palm of his hand. I must remember that. I could not afford flippancy or levity, or even casual assumption. He might be my cousin but his power over my life had become supreme at the precise moment that the holy oil touched his brow.
‘It is my duty to ask, my lord.’
‘We’ll dispense with duty on this occasion, Constance.’
He was short on patience. Well, of course he would be. The whole question of Richard’s future was hanging over him. Now that the Counter-Appellants had been swept away into incarceration, quite probably to await their execution, the Commons were vociferous in demanding that our late King be brought before them, to be given a trial of sorts. Henry did not agree, for this would be to hand the future of Richard over to others. If I knew anything of this man it was that he would keep Richard’s person securely under his own dominion. He would grant Lords and Commons as little power as he could.
Once more on my feet, folding my hands lightly at my waist over my girdle, I selected the man most effectively damned by the evidence. If Henry would listen, there was hope for the rest of them.
‘But my lord, surely my brother does not deserve imprisonment.’
‘Your brother is accused of being – what was that incomparable phrase used by Lord Fitzwalter?’
I knew it, as well as he.
‘Midwife to the murder of our uncle Thomas of Woodstock, my lord,’ I said.
‘I am surprised that you would remind me of it. It is damning.’
‘My brother of Aumale denies his involvement, my lord.’
‘Of course he does. He was rewarded for his foul deed with the title of Aumale and more land than is fit for one man to hold. I suppose you will say the same for your Despenser husband. That he was entirely ignorant of the murder as well. When he conveniently became Earl of Gloucester.’
‘No, my lord.’
‘No? So he would accept his guilt?’
Henry’s attention was sliding back towards the rejected document. I used the argument that I had used before because it was the only one that held some credence.
‘No to that, too, my lord. They would all reject their guilt, but how could they deny knowledge of it? They knew of the plan to remove our royal uncle. King Richard desired it. We were merely the tools that were used to accomplish it. It was dangerous to disobey King Richard. As you yourself discovered.’
I acknowledged that I sounded disgracefully glib. And so thought Henry.
‘You are as crafty-cunning as ever, Constance. And dressed for repentance. Seemly as a nun. From whom did you borrow that gown?’ But there was no amusement there.
‘Merely well informed, my lord.’ I disliked his malice. ‘Disobedience led to your banishment from England and the confiscation of your inheritance. Any man who dared to defy Richard suffered the consequence.’
An argument he would be unable to deny.
‘Be that as it may,’ – his features had set in granite, knowing that I had hit the truth – ‘I trust neither your brother nor your husband. Nor any of the Counter-Appellants, if truth be told.’
‘They bear you no ill will,’ I said, fighting what I hoped would be a good rearguard action. ‘They supported you in your coup against Richard.’
‘Only when the future became self-evident. They were all hand in glove with Richard, until they saw his cause was lost, when they decided to exchange his gauntlet for mine.’
There was no moving him, but at least I had his attention again.
‘They have sworn to be loyal to you, my lord.’
I hoped that he could not hear the growing despair that thundered in my head.
‘Of course they have. They had little choice.’ He raised his hand in a sharp gesture of denial. ‘I’m in no mood to listen to platitudes. Murderers they might not be, though I’d not argue so thin a line. Evil counsellors they most certainly were. I’m in no mind to treat them with any generosity. Imprisonment will provide the Counter-Appellants with the opportunity to search their souls.’ His mouth twisted in what was not a smile.
‘Will my father too suffer the same fate?’
His chin was tilted as he considered. ‘Perhaps not. I have a debt of true gratitude to the Duke of York. His conciliation at Bristol was beyond price to me. He could have stood against me but saw the right of my claims. It will please me to recognise that debt.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
At least there would be some good news to carry to Joan, although Surrey and Exeter remained prisoners somewhere. She had wanted to accompany me, abandoning her prayers, but I had refused. I did not think we would gain anything by her weeping on the King’s shoulder. But perhaps I had been wrong. Female tears might have won the day. My reasoned arguments were having no effect.
‘I would still ask for clemency, my lord.’ I could not let it go. I must not. Holding out my hands, palms up, I adopted a sorrowful expression, even though the requisite tears were beyond my summoning. ‘You had John Hall disembowelled as a traitor at Tyburn. Is that not enough?’
‘Enough? No, it is not enough.’ The spark of anger in the royal eye exploded into blistering heat of rage. I had not expected it, nor could I truly understand it. ‘I can do the same with the rest of the rabble, common or noble, traitors all. Go away, Constance. Look to your own household.’
‘My family deserve your thanks, not your condemnation,’ I persisted, my recognition of his royal status disintegrating. Yet still I worked to preserve a persuasive mien. Probably as a capon cheeps on seeing the axe in the cook’s fist.
‘Do you say? The whole lot of them would sell their souls to the Devil for office and status.’
‘And you would not?’
‘I would not. God’s Blood! You were always confrontational, Constance.’
‘Why not? When your family are in danger, you fight for their lives.’ He was no longer my King but my cousin. ‘Will you listen to the bloodthirsty, self-seeking Lords with their rabid accusations, who would happily sweep us all away?’
‘Who I’ll listen to is not your business. I’ll discuss it no more.’
‘Because you know you are wrong. My menfolk will be loyal if you will give them cause.’ I fought a last-ditch stand. ‘They are audacious men, and audacity can be dangerous, but they are gifted both on and off the battlefield. They will use those gifts for you.’ I ignored Henry’s jaundiced expression, concentrating on my eloquence. ‘I know you have the allegiance of your Beaufort brothers and the Percys, but Plantagenet blood is stronger than you know, and a wise man would not consider casting aside such skill. What will you need for the future? Diplomats, administrators, leaders in battle. You can’t afford to lose such an array of talent as we can provide.’
‘I can’t afford to place these apparently gifted men in positions of authority. I don’t trust them. I don’t trust you.’ Unmoved, Henry drew a breath. ‘You have said enough, Constance. Go back to your father.’
I had pushed him beyond tolerance. I had failed. I curtsied and turned to go, my spirits tumbling into the depths of hell.
‘Or even better, cousin…’
The King’s voice, softer now, stopped me. It might be soft but there was mischief in the slippery cadences when he strode past me to the door, opened it, and raised his voice to summon some distant minion.
‘Even better, I’ll have you escorted to the Tower. You can spend some time there with your husband. Whatever it was that Despenser was involved in, I cannot believe that you were ignorant of it. How fortunate that you came here, Constance. An opportunity I would be unwise to ignore. A neat matter of two Despenser birds in one secure cage.’
My respect for him as my King died an instant death and my spirits revived. ‘You would not!’
‘Oh, but I would.’
‘I am innocent of all charges. No charges have ever been brought against me.’
‘So you say, but do I believe you? You can discuss your past sins and examine your souls together.’ And when I opened my mouth to deny the need: ‘What’s more, if your younger brother was of an age to have been involved in the ignominy of our uncle’s death, I’d send him too. You are all as devious as a basket of ferrets.’
‘Unfair, Henry!’
‘And it would be unwise of you to forget that I am your King.’
‘How could I forget!’
The minion had arrived, one of Henry’s household.
‘Robert. Arrange for me if you will the escort of the Countess of Gloucester,’ – the curl of his lips disparaged the title that we had achieved from Richard on the death of his royal uncle – ‘to the Tower.’ He returned to the table, where he scribbled a note and signed it with a flourish and his seal pressed into a gout of soft wax. ‘Give this to the Constable. The Countess is to be lodged with her husband. At my pleasure.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And Robert…’
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Lady Despenser has a persuasive tongue. Do not listen to it.’
‘No, my lord.’
I could not believe what I had just heard.
‘How long will you keep me there?’ I demanded.
‘As long as it pleases me. Until I see fit to release you. Or not. Good day to you, Constance. You may inform Thomas Despenser that I am considering his future. At this moment it looks bleak. I might even gain pleasure from being certain that he will enjoy your company far less than I have just done. It will add to his discomfort.’
Good sense fled. ‘You know well how to turn friends into enemies, my lord.’
‘Perhaps. But I do not know as yet that I can count you and your family as my friends.’
‘They are your family, too.’
‘Will that stop them seeking my blood? I think not. After all, who is closer to me in blood than Richard? He would gladly have enforced my permanent banishment from England. There is no love lost there.’
He turned his back on me, returning to the document, stooping to run his hand over the greyhound’s head.
It seemed to me that Richard’s royal barge was a fitting conveyance, all crimson velvet and gilding and sumptuous cushions, as I was escorted by river by the minion who finally handed me from barge to quay. When I had last been here, I had known that I would depart within a matter of hours. Now my stay was limitless, my freedom curtailed in this formidable bulk that housed both Richard and my husband Thomas. I must make of it what I could. No one would know that beneath my cloak I was shivering with fear. The tide had been running against us, which smacked of an unpleasant omen.
I turned my eye on my escort. In fact he was no minion, but Sir Robert Waterton, a trusted friend of the King who, with Thomas Swynford, had been given the care of Richard. He was a close ally who had helped bring Henry to the throne, an important man in Henry’s household. On dry land, with the most winning smile I could muster, I did not hesitate in sending him about my bidding. I might be his prisoner, but I was still royal.
‘Tell my household at Westminster that I wish my women to bring what I will need for a short stay.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘And I wish for books.’
‘I will tell them of your needs, my lady, and that your stay is at the will of the King. Short or long.’
Unfortunately true. I could not afford to antagonise him as my future comfort might be dependent on his good offices.
‘The King will soon see the value of our release, Sir Robert.’
‘Yes, my lady. Everything is possible. It will be my duty to make your stay a comfortable one.’
I nodded briskly and followed him. After the events of the previous weeks I was no longer sure. Now I too had joined the prisoners; once I would have laughed at the unbelievable foolishness of it all. Now I dare not. The future was a dark vista with nothing clear to be discerned.
‘Where is my lord Richard?’ I asked, looking up at the solid stone that dwarfed all who stood within its shadow. Was he in the same chamber where I had visited him? I could not imagine how he would spend the long hours alone, a man who revelled in company, flattery, laughter.
‘My lord Richard’s whereabouts are not your concern, my lady.’
Which put me in my place. Sir Robert bowed and left me to the hands of the Constable of the Tower.
Royal palace. Royal prison. For all of us.
I could not stop the shivering.
I was escorted into the White Tower. A door was opened into what were royal apartments and I was bidden to enter. There, supine on the bed at the far side of the chamber against the wall, lounged my husband, fingers linked behind his head, ankles crossed.
‘Constance?’ He pushed himself slowly to a sitting position as his foot swung round to the floor, a frown descending with a rapidity I recognised. ‘Why are you here? Have you brought me a change of garments?’ His eyes flickered to note my lack of baggage. ‘No, of course you have not…’
His self-interest was a thing to marvel at. I had had enough of opinionated men for that day.
‘No, I have not. If you want a change of clothes, send a servant. And don’t disturb yourself.’ He had not actually managed to stand up to acknowledge my arrival. ‘It will delight you to know that I have come to stay.’
The door was already closed at my back. I heard the key turn in the lock.
The line between his brows had deepened. ‘I thought you would plead for my release.’
‘I tried.’
The frown had become a scowl, although he stood, but not to help me remove my cloak. ‘Not hard enough, it seems.’
He had no idea of how I had fought for his freedom, nor would I tell him. He would give me no praise for it, even if I had need of it. This was going to be a long and unpleasant sojourn together.
‘Our new King was not prepared to listen to any arguments I might make. He considers me as guilt-ridden as the rest of you. We await his mercy or condemnation. It seems that we are destined to await it together.’
A bark of disbelieving laughter.
‘He sent you here to stay?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’
My shivering had stopped. I swung the cloak from my shoulders and cast it onto a settle beside the door as again he laughed, the harshness deliberately cruel.
‘Did he know that it would enhance my penalty, to spend my incarceration with my sharp-tongued wife?’
‘I expect that he did.’ I lifted my hands, palms raised in some degree of supplication. We must make the best of this. ‘As you see, I am here. It is no better for me than it is for you.’
The thought of spending endless days with Thomas in these confined quarters appalled me. He had been here barely two days and was already harsh-featured with impatience. I hoped my household would send sufficient books to while away my time.
‘Where is Edward?’ Thomas demanded.
‘Incarcerated at Windsor.’
‘And Surrey?’
‘I think he is somewhere here in the Tower. And Exeter too.’
‘To Hell with Surrey and Exeter. It’s your brother that worries me. He could be our downfall. He’s in it up to his neck. If he confesses, he might implicate us all.’
‘He could also be our saviour.’
‘He could also buy his own release by incriminating the rest of us with evidence of our complicity. I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘He could. I doubt he would deliberately send me to the gallows.’
I surveyed the room where I was destined to spend who knew how many days or weeks, then walked through the doorway to the chamber beyond. Our quarters were comfortable enough, well furnished with stools and coffers. They were also spacious enough with windows which although narrow let in sufficient light. Here was no prison cell or dungeon to force us into despair or even confession. The bed on which Thomas had been – and was still – lounging had a fine mattress as I discovered when I pressed down on it to test it, running my hands over the coverlet and hangings, all well stitched, well matched and in fine condition. There was a fireplace with logs laid against a cold night. An abundance of candles was comforting, as was a platter of food that had been left for us, a flagon of ale or wine and expensively chased cups. I ran my finger along the edge of a carved settle. It had been cleaned recently; there was no dust. It could be worse. Our imprisonment was not intended to humiliate us.
Except for the lock on the door and the key that was in the possession of our gaoler.
‘We must believe that Henry will listen to whatever apology Edward makes. All we have to do is remain silent and allow Edward to make amends for all our past sins. He has a belief in his own immortality and in his ability to charm any creature to his hand. He’s the only one of us who can coax the Lords to soften their demands.’
To my mind, he was the only hope we had. Henry would not listen to me, and a glowering Thomas would do more harm than good.
‘Well, he’s pretty much failed so far.’
‘Are you going to pour me a cup of wine?’ I asked, seating myself on the edge of the bed that he had just vacated, spreading my skirts around me.
‘Pour it yourself.’
I allowed my brows to rise, upon which he poured me a cup but without any noticeable grace. By now I was in no mood to be gentle.
‘Be honest with me, Thomas. Were you involved in the business of my uncle’s death?’
He was watching me over the rim of his own cup. ‘Why? Would you despise me more if I was up to my wrists in his blood?’
‘No, I could not dislike you more than I do at this moment.’ I chose my next accusation with great deliberation. Not that his reply would make any difference. ‘Tell me this. Were you also involved in the death of my uncle’s son, Humphrey, in Ireland?’
His hand froze with the cup halfway to his lips.
‘Who says that?’
‘It is talked of. Did you think I would not hear? On his father’s death, the boy would claim the title of Gloucester that was given to you. You might be encouraged to get rid of him.’ My cousin Humphrey, heir to my murdered uncle, had been taken to Ireland in Richard’s household as a royal ward, but then had mysteriously died on his way home.
‘And you believe that I did? That I would have a child killed?’
I gave an elegant little shrug. ‘I only ask because that is what will be asked of you, if the King decides to send you to trial. And if you admit that you were involved in the sad demise of poor Humphrey, we are both dead, for who would believe that I was innocent?’
And, I decided, it did matter. This would have been a very personal and vindictive attack on a defenceless boy.
Thomas’s shrug was less elegant than mine, his expression sour. ‘I was involved as much as we all were. And we both benefitted. You are a Countess as a result.’
‘I’d rather not be a dead one.’ I sighed, suddenly weary of half-truths and evasions after a morning of failure. Faced with the locked door and the prospect of long imprisonment, despair came swiftly and I struggled to make amends.
‘If we are to spend time together, you might try for a more equable mood,’ I suggested.
For a moment he merely stood, deep in thought, before he came to sit beside me on the bed, taking my hands in his and his mouth curved in what might have been interpreted as affection if I did not know him better. ‘What do you suggest that we do now, dearest wife?’
‘Just hope that Edward is careful with his confessions.’
For that little seed of doubt had been effectively planted; Thomas’s reading of Edward’s character was not without strength. Would Edward throw us all to the ravening wolves in exchange for his own release? Edward with an eye to all possibilities and an ability to grasp any opportunity for his own benefit. I had seen it happen. When Queen Anne had died, and Richard cast into deep melancholy at the loss of his wife, who had come out of it with rewards beyond belief? Edward had become one of the three feoffees of her estates, administering them together with the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Salisbury. At the tender age of twenty-one years, the extent of patronage that had fallen into his hands through this lucrative office had been remarkable. Edward always fell on his feet.
Pray God that he would not bargain again, at my expense.
Meanwhile Thomas had released me, left me, to hammer on the door.
‘What are you doing?’
‘If we are to be here for any length of time, I need clothes. And shoes.’
As I looked at the garment he was wearing, one of his Court houppelandes, pleated into a gilded belt, the elongated over-sleeves almost brushing the floor, his capacity for the frivolous never failed to astonish me. He issued orders for his garments to be brought from Westminster, for new shoes and hose. Money changed hands.
‘I like your priorities, Thomas.’ He cocked his chin. ‘Here we are in fear of our lives and you send a servant to buy you new linen and hose and shoes.’
‘I may yet need to impress Henry.’
‘The shoes will certainly do it.’
‘They might very well. And now that’s done…’
Thomas was in strangely celebratory mood, my accusations momentarily forgotten as he returned to join me on the bed, removing my veil before pushing my skirts aside with well-practised efficiency but no finesse.
Silently I sighed. It would prove to be a long imprisonment.
I was fortunate in that his satisfaction was swift, greedily fuelled by nothing more than male lust that was effective but brief. Through long practice I tolerated his attentions, complying with every demand. I had learned well the lesson of submission within marriage. Love? I knew not what it was. I had never taken a lover. I had never met a man who aroused even the smallest spark of desire in my cold heart. Moreover I had never regretted the lack of so uneasy an emotion. Was it love that had drawn my mother into that disastrous liaison with John Holland? Or had it been mere lust, since she had been quick to cast him off when her desires had waned? Isabella was no example for me to follow. Love made a woman weak and vulnerable, and I would do well enough without it.
Thomas’s celebratory mood was short-lived. It became a time of a permanently underlying fear, of an apprehension that never abated. Eventually a time of terror that made my stomach roil with nausea. The days passed in which, every morning, Thomas was summoned to be questioned before parliament, and returned every evening, each time more dour than the last despite his new garments and shoes. He might make a flamboyant, confident display but no one was prepared to release us on the strength of it. The key clicked in the lock with a terrible certainty.
‘Same questions, same answers,’ he grumbled. ‘We circle around like carrion over a rotting carcase.’
I gave up asking, except for: ‘Have you seen Edward? What about Surrey or Exeter?’
‘I have seen none of them. We are questioned alone. So that we do not collaborate in our answers.’
‘What do you think?’ In the end I had to ask.
‘What should I think? How would I know what’s in Henry’s head? If it’s up to the Lords, we’re dead men. I can already see them sharpening their knives.’ He scowled down at his hose that were covered with dust from his journey from the Tower to Westminster. ‘They are talking about what to do with Richard. They still hope to put him on trial too.’
The horror increased.
‘Will Henry allow it?’
‘He’s too busy receiving ambassadors from the French Court. As a usurper, he has to make a good impression at regal fitness. I hear they are feasting nightly.’ He eyed the meagre offering brought to us on a platter, selecting an unrecognisable piece of seared flesh and biting into it, explaining as he chewed, while I moved the platter to cover the worst of the stains. What should have been a fair cloth had not been changed for some days.
‘He might let the Lords have their way. I think they want the accusations against Richard to be made known so that when they condemn him to death there will be no backlash against them. They are saying that he had planned to sell Calais back to the French. Which is sure to stir up London against Richard.’
‘I’ve heard nothing of that. Is that true?’
Thomas licked his fingers and flung himself down beside me, in a mood to be eloquent. ‘I don’t know. From the gossip, Surrey’s case is not looking good. It is said that Richard had intended to make him King of Ireland. It’s possible. The Lords resent it.’
I let my thoughts run on, despairingly, eventually speaking them aloud.
‘They’re intent on finding any and every bit of evidence they can against us. It doesn’t look good for any of us.’
‘While Henry is being righteous,’ Thomas admitted, ‘and has decided that God is on his side.’
I feared he was right.
I read and reread the books that had been sent. I had no appetite for the romance or the courage of King Arthur’s knights. They could not keep my mind from our fate. I thought that my father might be allowed to visit, out of compassion, but he did not. Henry was not open to compassion.
One night, on a Monday as I recall, when I was lying sleepless, I was disturbed by more than the usual night-bound noises of this great fortress. Drawn to the window by a coming and going below, I strained to look down into the courtyard.
In a moment Thomas was at my shoulder, struggling into a tunic to cover his naked flesh, grimacing at the chill of the room. He was as sleepless as I.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Impossible to see. But look…’
Figures came into view below. There was enough moonlight. Then there were lanterns, brought to illuminate a small escort. No horses. No carriage.
‘It is someone who will travel by water,’ I whispered, as if I too was drawn into the conspiracy. ‘Someone who needs to travel with a degree of secrecy.’
‘Richard?’
‘Would they take him elsewhere to his death?’ I asked, knowing that there was no possible reply. ‘If that is what Henry wants, why not send him to Tower Hill, as Richard sent Arundel?’
‘Or he could simply be tipped into the river and his body lost until washed up somewhere beyond Greenwich. It might solve Henry’s problem for good.’
The escort with its lanterns moved out of our sight. Who might be in its midst we had no means of knowing, or of what his fate might be.
That same day, with dawn breaking, a note was pushed beneath our door.
‘Dickon,’ I said, recognising the writing which always surprised me in its neatness. ‘He has bribed someone to deliver this. His capacity to be resourceful astonishes me.’
But the fact that he had gone to the trouble to do so made my heart plummet.
It was short.
A letter has been received by the King. The source of it I do not know. It threatens insurrection throughout England if he does not immediately give the order to execute the Counter-Appellant Lords responsible for the death of Thomas of Woodstock.
What he will do is still uncertain.
I thought you should be warned.
Terror throbbed between our four walls like a new wound, although neither of us spoke of it through a night that brought us no rest.