‘But now she’s dead.’

‘She lives on in a way. The French thank Heaven she was on their side and that idea can’t be shifted.’

‘To let the girl burn at the stake! Heaven’s help wasn’t much use there.’

‘It’s made a sort of legend of it. After all they are saying Christ was crucified. If the girl had gone back to her flocks she would have been forgotten in a few months. Now they will never forget.’

‘So Bedford suffers, does he?’ The Duchess was smiling.

‘He looks older.’

‘And he is happy with his Duchess? You brothers are lucky in your marriages. Henry enjoyed Katherine. By the way, there is still scandal about her frolicking with the Welsh squire.’

‘Let her,’ said Gloucester. ‘She’s no threat to us.’

‘No, and we waste time to consider her. Humphrey, if Bedford were to die …’

‘He is a young man yet.’

‘In battle perhaps. After all your brother Henry died at thirty-five.’

‘Yes, if he were to die what then?’

‘What then indeed, my Humphrey. Do you realise that you would be next in line to the throne?’

‘Young Henry is a healthy enough boy.’

‘H’m …’ she murmured and there was speculation in her beautiful eyes. ‘We must hope the way remains clear. Bedford may live for years yet. His Anne may have a son … which God forbid.’

She was deeply thoughtful; ideas had come to her which she would not share even with Humphrey.

She had become a Duchess and no one would have believed she ever could. Was it possible for her to be a Queen?

There was one man who would ruin their plans if he had a chance and that was Humphrey’s uncle, Cardinal Beaufort.

He must go. Humphrey had tried hard enough to get rid of him and had failed so far. It was a pity that the old Cardinal held such power. It was a pity that he was of a royal strain. It was all very well for Humphrey to call him Bastard. So might he have been born but old John of Gaunt’s paternal instincts had been strong and he had cared so much for Beaufort’s mother that he had insisted on her children being legitimised. And Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester and now Cardinal, had shown his loyalty to the crown all through his life. It was hard to unseat such a man.

‘I think we have him this time,’ said Gloucester. ‘We’ll get him on praemunire. I have it on good authority that he has bought an exemption from the jurisdiction of Canterbury. He has given bribes. And look how rich he is. How did he come by such possessions?’

‘To get him removed would be a great triumph,’ said Eleanor.

‘Never fear, my love, I shall do it.’

‘I never doubted that you would. Tell me more of Bedford.’

‘He is as ever … determined to carry out my brother’s death-bed wishes. A little upset about Burgundy though. He made a mistake over Orléans and should have let the town surrender to Burgundy. Wasn’t going to beat the bushes to let someone else get the birds, ha, ha. He thought he was clever. And Bedford doesn’t like to make mistakes.’

‘You would say matters do not go well in France.’

‘I would indeed say that.’

She put her arms about him and drew him towards her. ‘We have matters here in England with which to concern ourselves,’ she said.


* * *

It was May when Henry opened Parliament and a very unpleasant session it was because of the quarrel between Uncle Humphrey and Cardinal Beaufort.

During it the Cardinal rose and confronting him and his Uncle Humphrey demanded to know what accusations were being brought against him.

There was a great deal of recrimination and talk which Henry could not understand but he was well aware of the hatred between his Uncle Humphrey and his great uncle the Cardinal.

He gathered that the Cardinal had made treaties with the Pope and that by so doing he had acquired special privilege; he had amassed great wealth; and above all his Uncle Humphrey would not rest until he had confiscated the Cardinal’s vast wealth and exiled him from the country.

It was all very distressing for Henry who was afraid of both of them. He was glad they did not expect him to take any decisions as yet. That was all for the Parliament to do.

He was relieved when the Parliament told him to declare his faith in the Cardinal; but it was all very bewildering and it seemed that the Cardinal was not very happy about the proceedings. Henry had heard his Uncle Humphrey say that the Bishops would be rather excited at the prospect of the See of Winchester being vacant and that would be helpful. Henry could not understand that at all. It seemed to have nothing to do with the Cardinal’s guilt.

After that they discussed seizing his jewels, which was also difficult for Henry to understand. Later he heard that the Cardinal had lent the crown a great deal of money so that seemed to settle the matter.

But Henry young as he was knew that his uncle would continue to hate the Cardinal and try to harm him; and the Cardinal would always be Humphrey’s enemy.


* * *

As the Court was at Westminster for the session of the Parliament, it was easy for Eleanor to go on a little errand which had long been in her mind. Divesting herself of her jewels and her fine velvet robe, she put on the clothes of a merchant’s wife and with one of her attendants likewise clad she slipped out into the streets and the pair mingled with the crowd.

They made their way in silence to an inn in one of the narrow streets. The innkeeper came out, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Eleanor, and he was about to bow obsequiously when a look from her restrained him.

‘The horses?’ she said.

‘Ready and waiting …’ he answered promptly.

She nodded and with her attendant went out with the innkeeper to the innyard where two horses were already saddled. The innkeeper helped Eleanor to mount and did the same for her attendant. Then the two women rode together out of the yard.

It was not very far to the Manor of Eye-next-Westminster and having reached the little hamlet they went to an inn to leave their horses. They were received there with the same respect.

Although these precautions irritated Eleanor at the same time she was elated by them. An intriguer by nature she enjoyed the thrill of mystery. She wanted no one to know of her visits to Margery – not even Humphrey. Eleanor had great faith in Margery, and she had suffered a certain shock not so long ago when Margery had been sent to Windsor, suspected of sorcery.

Trust Margery to extricate herself from that, but even she could hardly hope to do so again if another charge was brought against her and it would not be advisable for the Duchess of Gloucester to be connected with her.

They came to the house; it was small, in a row of such houses, but there was something exciting about it because it was the home of Margery Jourdemayne, the Witch of Eye.

Eleanor rapped imperiously on the door. It was opened cautiously and there was Margery herself, her eyes bright with welcome.

‘Come in, my lady. It warms the cockles of my heart to see you again.’

‘Ah Margery, let me look at you. The same as ever. You don’t seem to have suffered much from your ordeal.’

‘That’s nigh on three years back, my lady. And right glad I am to see you … and to learn by hearsay that our little tricks worked. My lady Duchess now … no less. A very great lady … one of the finest in the land, they tell me. But what do we here? Come in, my lady … and you too, my lady. There’s always a welcome for you at old Margery’s fireside.’

They were in a small room very sparsely furnished with a table, two chairs and a few stools. This was where Margery received her clients and it was scarcely different from other rooms in houses of its kind.

‘Pray be seated,’ she said and offered a chair to the Duchess. Margery herself sat on the other. The Duchess’s attendant was given a stool.

‘And what did you wish from me, my lady?’

‘I believe you have a good complexion milk, Margery. You supplied it to me in the past. I miss it.’

‘I know the one, my lady, my own special brew. ’Tis made from … Ah, but I must not give away my secrets. ’Tis more than the herbs that goes into it. It’s the wisdom and blessings of wise women culled over the years and passed down to their own.’

‘It softened my skin and made it like velvet,’ said the Duchess. ‘Margery, take me to your workroom a while. I would select my own pot.’

‘Assuredly, my lady.’

A covert understanding had passed between Margery and Eleanor. It meant they were to be alone.

The attendant rose and Margery said: ‘Nay, my dear. You will stay here.’

It was an order. Eleanor turned to her attendant and shrugged her shoulders as though to say: We must humour the old woman, and then she followed Margery through a door which was firmly shut behind them.

‘You know the way, my lady,’ she said with a little laugh.

Eleanor nodded and Margery led the way down a flight of steps. With a key which hung about her waist Margery opened a door. They were in a kind of cellar with a barred window high in the wall through which a faint light came. From the beams hung herbs of many kinds all in the process of drying. There was a fire burning and on this stood a cauldron from which steam rose and the air was filled with the pungent smell of whatever was simmering. Eleanor recognised the appliances on a long bench which could be used for cutting, slicing, pounding and such like operations for she had seen it on previous visits.

‘My lady’s complexion milk. I have but to decant it,’ said Margery. ‘I made this for you before I went to Windsor. That’s three years ago but it is of such fine stuff that it will last forever.’