The Tudor Bride (29 page)

Along with Agnes and me at the ‘reward’ table on the dais, a trestle set for Catherine’s officials to one side of the high table, sat Owen Tudor, Walter Vintner and Thomas Roke, a young London lawyer who had been appointed her Receiver-General. At first Owen spoke little and kept his eyes firmly on his trencher, leading me to suspect that he too was surprised and not a little shocked by this sudden turn of events.

I sought to lighten Owen’s mood by telling him the reason for it. ‘Perhaps you should not spread this fact around generally, but the Count of Mortain has made a proposal of marriage to Queen Catherine,’ I told him. ‘It is very likely that they will marry quite soon and it does not look to me as if they should wait too long.’

Owen lifted his head and I noticed with surprise that his eyes were clouded with concern. ‘She looks happy,’ he said, ‘and that worries me. Her grace has had enough heartbreak in her life. She does not need more.’

I frowned, suddenly wary. ‘What do you mean? Do you know something about the count? Is he perhaps not free to marry?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that. You are right. They would suit each other well, perhaps a little too well for some people.’

Thomas Roke leaned around my shoulder to address Owen. ‘I take it you have heard the rumours on your travels, Master Tudor?’

I swivelled to look at him. He was a solid young man, ruddy-faced and broad-beamed, with the air of someone who would brook no opposition – a useful characteristic for a receiver-general whose job was to travel around Catherine’s dower manors collecting rents and checking crops and tallies. He was actually Walter’s brother-in-law, having married his sister Anne several years ago, the eventual result of a secret love affair which had been the cause of some distress at the time to their father, my friend Geoffrey Vintner, with whom I still maintained an intermittent correspondence. Geoffrey had not approved of his legal apprentice courting his daughter, but once Thomas had qualified he had been persuaded to give his permission for the marriage to take place. The young lawyer had turned up at Hertford only a few days after Catherine’s household had moved in, with impressive letters of recommendation and a courteous and obliging manner, which contrasted with his stolid appearance. Catherine had appointed him on three months trial and so far he had justified her trust in him. Now he was about to prove that he kept his ear to the ground and had a nose for political intrigue.

Owen sipped from his wine cup. ‘Madame’s retirement has been the subject of much discussion in the inns and taverns. It is hard to ignore it.’

Thomas nodded solemnly. ‘And in London, particularly, many rumours are rife that she has been sent from court because her lewd behaviour was corrupting the young king.’

‘What!’ My cry of disbelief was so violent that I clapped a hand across my mouth to stem it, continuing in a muffled whisper. ‘Are you telling me that people believe she is wanton? That she behaves lasciviously? When nothing could be further from the truth!’

Thomas regarded me with patient disparagement. ‘Truth is never paramount in the minds of rumour-mongers, Madame. When it comes to spreading gossip about royals and nobles, they tell the stories that glean the most gleeful reactions. People love to think that their lords and masters – or lady in this case – are no better than they should be.’

‘But who is starting these terrible rumours about Queen Catherine?’ Agnes asked indignantly. ‘And what exactly do they say?’ We must have looked like a gaggle of gossips ourselves as we sat hunched over our trenchers, talking in urgent whispers and frequently stopping in mid-sentence so that passing servers and stewards should not hear.

Owen Tudor gave an awkward cough. ‘If we tell you both, I do not want the story spreading to the other ladies, or more importantly to the queen herself. I do not wish her to think for a minute that I either believe it or condone the spreading of it.’

He looked so stricken at the thought of this that I hastened to reassure him. ‘I promise I will not tell another soul,’ I said, ‘unless I discuss it with you first. For there may come a time when the queen needs to be told.’

Agnes echoed my assurances. ‘I will never speak of what I do not believe either,’ she said.

Owen pondered this for a moment then nodded sharply at Walter, who had so far sat silent and goggle-eyed at the turn the conversation had taken. ‘The same goes for you, Master Clerk. Not a word.’

Walter inclined his head to indicate agreement as Thomas Roke glanced about for eavesdroppers before launching into his full account. ‘You may know already that the Duke of Gloucester is very popular among the merchants and burgesses of London. He cultivates them because he knows they are a good source of finance for the French campaign. So if he wants to sow the seeds of a rumour that is where he does it, in the inns and exchanges of the Cheape. And that is where I first heard the gossip about Queen Catherine.’

‘And what exactly did it say?’ I asked. ‘Was it just generally malicious or did it name names and make specific allegations?’ I felt sick at the thought that drunken men in seedy taverns had been bad-mouthing my sweet and unimpeachable lady. A similar thing had happened in Paris during the Terrors, but then the rumours were about her mother’s rash expenditure and adulterous liaisons and they at least had more than a little grounding in truth. I seethed at the thought that without cause or justification, Catherine was being tarred with the same brush as Queen Isabeau.

‘No, it did not name names, for that could have led to litigation. Instead there were scurrilous stories of banquets and entertainments at Windsor when the king had been compelled to watch naked tumblers and bawdy jesters and Queen Catherine had danced lewdly with knights and squires and wantonly exposed her hair and throat to open view.’ I must have looked utterly horrified, for Master Roke gave an apologetic shrug and added, ‘I am only relating what I heard, Madame. We all know that none of it is true.’

It was not, but I could see where the roots of it lay. Catherine’s immediate reaction at being denied a role in her son’s further upbringing had been to put aside the widow’s barbe and wimple and wear her jewels and fashionable gowns at the Christmas festivities at Windsor. It did not take much exaggeration to turn golden hair braided into mesh nets and the absence of any neck covering into ‘wanton exposure of the hair and throat’. But how a few Twelfth Night pranks had turned into ‘naked tumbling and lewd dancing’, I could not credit.

‘You imply that these rumours originated in the Gloucester camp,’ I persisted, ‘but why should the Duke of Gloucester have any reason to smear the reputation of the Queen Mother, of all people?’

Owen Tudor scratched his head. ‘That is what puzzles me. Her grace has no power in the land, no influence in the regency council; so Gloucester can have no axe to grind with her.’

I said nothing, but I suspected we should not only be looking to the duke for a motive but perhaps also to the resentment of Eleanor Cobham, who had been twice rejected as a lady-in-waiting and had not been received by Catherine since becoming Gloucester’s mistress. Then Master Roke gave me even more food for thought.

‘While we are watching Queen Catherine enjoying the Count of Mortain’s company and considering a proposal of marriage from him, we should not forget that there is much bad blood between Gloucester and the House of Beaufort.’ Wielding his knife with relish, the stocky receiver-general stabbed a slice of fat pork and laid it carefully on his gravy-soaked trencher. ‘It is only three years since the duke and Cardinal Beaufort almost caused a civil war over who held sway in the council. As she dallies with Edmund Beaufort, her grace may be unaware that the cardinal is very likely to be behind this apparently innocuous offer of marriage. A step-father to the king can only become more powerful as our young sovereign grows older and any step-brothers would bear the name of Beaufort. There is a great deal in a name.’

T
he following day I stood with Catherine as she bade farewell to the Count of Mortain, who was riding to London to take part in a grand procession to mark the recent elevation of his uncle, the immensely rich and powerful Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, to the College of Cardinals. It was an appointment which Henry the Fifth had blocked, for fear that his rich and powerful uncle would owe a greater allegiance to Rome than to the English crown; but now the wily Beaufort had managed to bring the council around to the idea of England having its own representative in the Vatican conclave and the cardinal’s red hat was firmly on his head. Not a situation that met with the approval of the Duke of Gloucester.

On the steps of the great hall Edmund kissed her hand with genuine regret. ‘I would not leave you so soon, Catherine, but Gloucester has consistently opposed the pope’s offer of the cardinal’s hat and may get his retainers to stir trouble among the London crowds. My uncle needs all the support he can muster. However, I will be back before Easter for your reply to my question.’

After Mass Catherine, Agnes and I wrapped ourselves in fur-lined cloaks against the chill February wind and walked in the frost-nipped garden in order to avoid being overheard. The offer of marriage was still not public knowledge.

‘I wrote to the king today to ask his opinion,’ Catherine revealed. ‘Do you think Henry will approve of the match? I could not possibly go against his wishes.’

‘It is a pity you could not tell him face to face, Madame,’ observed Agnes. ‘He is very young to understand your reasons for taking another husband.’

Catherine gave a shaky laugh. ‘I am not sure I understand them myself, Agnes,’ she said. ‘But I pointed out to Henry that he might like to have brothers and sisters and that would be one good reason for my marrying.’

‘Are you sure your letter will remain confidential?’ I asked with concern, recalling the previous day’s reward table conversation. ‘Is not the king’s correspondence vetted before he sees it?’

‘Not letters from his mother, Mette!’ Catherine was indignant at the very thought. ‘I always put my personal seal on them. No, I do not believe my correspondence with Henry is vetted.’

I was far from confident about this myself, but merely asked, ‘If the king approves, have you definitely decided to go ahead, Mademoiselle?’

We walked at least ten strides in silence before Catherine suddenly stopped and regarded at me candidly. ‘Yes, Mette, I have. I cannot think of any nobleman in England I would rather marry than Edmund. Besides, I would have Margaret of Clarence as a mother-in-law and Queen Joan of Scotland as a sister. It is a family I would gladly join.’

‘Not forgetting the cardinal,’ I said under my breath as we resumed our walk.

Catherine was too sharp of hearing not to catch this remark. ‘Why do you say that?’ she demanded.

I was still mulling over Thomas Roke’s revelations. ‘No particular reason,’ I said lightly, ‘except I think it unlikely Lord Edmund would have made a proposal of marriage without consulting the cardinal first. He is head of the Beaufort family, especially with the Earl of Somerset still a prisoner in France.’

‘I see what you mean. Well that is all right. Cardinal Beaufort is a good man to have on your side. Look how he managed to get King James’s throne back for him.’

It was true, I thought, she had little to fear from the Beaufort affinity, but should I warn her who her real enemies might be? At this early stage I decided against it.

To my delight, the following afternoon brought more new arrivals to Hertford Castle; Geoffrey Vintner and his two daughters Anne and Mildred, accompanied by a brace of hired men at arms. Ever since Master Roke had been appointed Receiver-General, it had been understood that his wife, Anne, would come to join him and might be found a role in Catherine’s household, but the additional arrival of her father and sister was unexpected. I knew that Geoffrey and Mildred had recently returned to London from Rouen, but I had not yet had a chance to visit them.

‘Apart from taking a letter to the king, Queen Catherine’s courier also brought one to me,’ Geoffrey explained when I found the Vintner family warming themselves at the fire in the great hall. ‘Her grace requested that I visit her as soon as possible so of course I dropped everything to come and it seemed a good opportunity to bring Anne to join her husband. Nor was there any chance of leaving Mildy behind when the opportunity arose for an “adventure”, as she put it. I hope that in a castle of this size there may be accommodation for all of us.’

I reassured him of this and smiled at the younger girl in her bright-green wool kirtle and darker green coney-lined cloak. Although it was some years since I had seen her, she did not seem to me to have changed greatly from the mischievous freckled imp I had first encountered at the house in Tun Lane. While her sister Anne, at twenty-one, had become a mature, almost matronly figure, Mildy was still small and vivacious, eager for new experiences and, at nineteen, as yet unwed. I knew that she had accompanied Geoffrey to Rouen to keep his house for him and in a letter to me from there he had expressed his pleasure that she showed no urgent desire to marry and his own reluctance to let her go. Owen Tudor appeared to have been expecting Geoffrey Vintner and, the household meal being over, had organised refreshments for him and his family, to which they duly settled around a small table by the hearth. Thomas Roke was not there to greet his wife because, being unaware of her imminent arrival, he had set out the previous day for one of Catherine’s manors, some miles distant. Seating myself on the bench beside her, I could see that Anne was disappointed.

‘I am afraid Master Roke is often away, Mistress Anne. It is in the nature of the job of receiver-general. However, he will no doubt be delighted to find you here on his return and, in the meantime, you can settle into your new home in the gatehouse. You must feel free to come to me if you have any problems or requests. When you have finished your meal, I will take you to meet the queen’s ladies and I am sure Queen Catherine will also wish to make the acquaintance of her receiver-general’s wife.’