Poor Thomas, he had yearned so for glory. He wanted to be as great as Henry. But alas, he was not. The tragedy is, thought John, that none of us is.

The Earl of Salisbury had recovered Thomas’s body from the battlefield and it had been brought to England and buried with great pomp at Canterbury, where the English paid homage to him, believing him to be almost as great a soldier as his brother.

And after Thomas the big tragedy: the death of Henry.

Only two of us boys left, thought John. Humphrey and myself.

The thought worried him and he wondered how much he could rely on Humphrey.

And now the King of France was dead. It was a calamity although not unexpected. When he had lived Henry had longed for it, for on the death of the King of France, Henry was to have been proclaimed that country’s king. That would have been a great and glorious occasion. But now there was only a baby boy where a strong man should have been. Moreover there was a Dauphin who would now call himself King of France and the English invaders must inevitably find themselves surrounded by a hostile people. None understood more than John that a proud people like the French would never submit to a foreign invader and accept a foreigner as their King.

A great deal depended on Burgundy. Henry had always said: ‘We need Burgundy.’ In fact the downfall of France was in a great measure due to the warring factions in the heart of her country. The long-standing feud between Orléans and Burgundy had weakened France to such an extent that the conquest had been more easily accomplished than it could possibly have been if the French had been united against the common enemy.

Henry had made John aware of the importance of Burgundy. Even on his death bed his thoughts had been of the Duke. He had gripped John’s hand and talked to him very earnestly and had said: ‘I leave the government of France in your hands, brother. But if Burgundy has a mind to undertake it, leave it to him. Above all things, I tell you to have no dissension with Burgundy. If that should happen – and may God preserve you from it – the affairs of France with which we have progressed so favourably would become bad … for us.’

They were words which were engraved on John’s mind because he had come to realise the wisdom of them. He was not likely to forget the importance of keeping the peace with Burgundy.

France was in turmoil. While mad Charles had still borne the name of King of France there was a respite. The French could go on believing that a usurper had not taken the throne. But now Charles was dead and action must be taken to bring the French to reality, so after the burial of Charles VI at St Denis, John had no alternative but to have the baby Henry VI declared King of France. This proclamation must take place in Paris and as the time grew nearer the more uneasy John became.

The body of the King of France was taken to St Denis and there with appropriate ceremony laid to rest, The only Prince to attend was John, Duke of Bedford. He had hoped that Burgundy would be there, but clearly Burgundy would have no desire to pay homage to the Duke of Bedford. He could not expect that.

So far so good. The ceremony had progressed without incident. Now came the testing point. He must ride back to Paris and there proclaim his nephew King of France.

He was deeply conscious of the sullen crowds. He knew that any moment they might arise and attack him. He had his guards who would be on the alert for any disturbance, and they had no weapons but he did not underestimate the power of the mob. He thought of Henry and took courage from the fact that he was doing what his brother would have done had he been alive on this day. Before him rode one of his knights carrying a naked sword, which was an emblem of kingly authority. The people of Paris would be aware of that.

He sat his horse very still and silent as the proclamation rang out: ‘Long live Henry of Lancaster, King of England and King of France.’

He waited. They could have come against him then. He might be called upon to face the violence of a Paris mob. He was deeply aware of the sullen silence all about him.

No. It was well. They had had enough of fighting. They had starved and suffered; they had lost members of their families; they were a subdued and beaten people. They knew that at this time they dared do nothing but accept Henry of Lancaster as their King.

John believed their English claim was just and true – as Henry had always said and others before him. It came through Isabella who had been wife of Edward the Second, and if the French upheld the Salic Law the English did not. Moreover they had won by conquest. Still they were considered to be usurpers.

The ceremony was over. He had done his duty. As he rode on to the Louvre he heard the rumbling of voices and he knew the silence was over. Henry had been proclaimed but now the discontent would break out. He knew they were talking of Good King Charles, not mad King Charles, the poor ineffectual man, reduced at times by his madness almost to savagery. The man whose rule had brought disaster to France had become a saint.

Was it not always so?

There were dispatches from England waiting for him. He was tired, exhausted by the emotion of his recent experience. But he must read the dispatches. There could be something in them of the utmost importance.

He read and when he came to the news of his brother Humphrey he paused. He felt the blood rush to his face. He could not believe it. He read it twice. Humphrey … married to Jacqueline. It was impossible. The woman was married already … and to Brabant – a marriage arranged by Burgundy which meant that the wily Duke had his eyes on Hainault, Holland and Zealand. And Humphrey had had the stupidity to marry this woman. He could not have thought of a better way of arousing Burgundy’s wrath.

He read on. Benedict had annulled the marriage with Brabant …

Benedict. The anti-Pope!

Here was disaster. Burgundy would turn against them. They could not afford to make Burgundy an enemy. Burgundy was the most powerful man in France. Henry’s all but last words had been a warning about Burgundy. Never act in such a way as to make him your enemy. Why, he had even offered to make Burgundy Regent of France on his death bed and it was because Burgundy had refused that John himself had had to take on that tremendous task.

And now by this foolish marriage Humphrey would soon be involved in a quarrel with Burgundy.

Exhausted as he was by the ordeal through which he had just passed he must think now how best to act. Should he explain to Burgundy, consult with him?

Oh Henry, he thought, had you been living at this day this could never have happened.


* * *

Philip, Duke of Burgundy, one of the richest and most powerful men in France, was the son of John the Fearless. At the time of the battle of Agincourt Philip had been nineteen years old, already married to Michelle, who was the daughter of the King of France and had, as a child, shared with Katherine the privations of the Hôtel de St Pol. The greatest regret of Philip’s life to this time was that he had not been present at the famous battle which had led to the downfall of France. Duke John had given orders that his son was not to leave the Castle of Aire where he was staying at that time and his governor, on pain of severe penalty, had been warned that no matter how much he protested Philip was to remain there.

Philip had chafed against such orders, but had not known of course how important that battle was going to prove. If he had, he vowed, he would have broken free no matter at what cost, and he would have been there.

And so the flower of the French army had been destroyed by a small opposing force and to her everlasting shame France had been brought to her knees. When he heard of the defeat, Philip wept for three days. He refused all food and those about him feared for his health. For years to come he was to refer to Agincourt as the most grievous time of his life.

As for Duke John, he also was overcome with grief. Two of Philip’s uncles, the Duke of Brabant and the Count of Nevers, had perished with much of the nobility of France. But while he mourned, Duke John rejoiced that his son had not been present on that field.

All the same he was ashamed that he himself had not been there and he sent his gauntlet to Henry who was at that time at Calais.

‘The Duke of Brabant is dead,’ he wrote. ‘He is no vassal of France and holds no fief there, but I his brother of Burgundy defy you and send you this gauntlet.’

Henry’s reply was characteristic of him.

‘I will not accept the gauntlet of so noble and puissant a Prince as the Duke of Burgundy. I am of no account compared with him. If I have had the victory over the nobles of France it is by God’s Grace. The death of the Duke of Brabant has caused me great sorrow. Take back your gauntlet. Neither I nor my people caused your brother’s death. If you will be at Boulogne on the fifteenth of January next, I will prove by the testimony of prisoners and two of my friends that it was the French who accomplished his destruction.’

This was an astonishing reply, completely lacking in the arrogance of the conqueror. It was a tentative hand of friendship towards the Duke of Burgundy and it had a marked effect on John the Fearless. He recognised in Henry not only a great soldier but a diplomat as well. He compared him with the mad and feeble King of France and thought what a much more worthwhile ally Henry would make. He ignored Henry’s invitation, however. Instead he marched to Paris and gave every indication of taking arms against the English; but he was really more concerned in the struggle for power between the Burgundians and the Armagnacs – this last named after the Comte Bernard d’Armagnac who had put himself at the head of the Orléans party.