‘There is Latimer, the King’s Chamberlain. He works closely for your brother. He is also responsible for the growth of bribery about the Court. I fear that nothing much can be done while he holds his position.’

‘Then Latimer must be deprived of his office. Summon the Parliament and attend to these matters.’

‘It means that we are going against John of Gaunt.’

‘It means that you are standing with the Black Prince.’

‘When they know that you are with them, my lord, methinks that will decide them.’

Sir Peter de la Mare left the Prince and went with all haste to his home that he might prepare his speech to the House of Commons.

The Prince lay on his bed. The pain had returned in full force. He was even more tormented by his thoughts.

Conflict in the family. It was always unwise, and now that the country was so weak it was a danger.

He had always known John was ambitious. What did he want?

The crown! Of course he wanted a crown. He had married Constanza of Castile for one and it was hardly likely that he would ever get it. No, his eyes were on the crown of England. And that was going to be planted firmly on the head of little Richard.

Oh God, prayed the Prince, let me live long enough to see my son safely come into his own.


* * *

Sir Peter de la Mare’s speech caused an uproar in the House of Commons. He was an eloquent man which was why he had risen to his present post and he was expressing sentiments which were applauded by the majority of them – those who were not the close friends and supporters of John of Gaunt.

The Black Prince was behind them. De la Mare had made that clear. The Prince might be a sick man but he was still a power in the land.

His first attack was on the King’s mistress. He wanted her banished from Court. He knew that the House was with him as regarded this woman; there was one other who must be removed – and indeed perhaps impeached – and that was the King’s Chamberlain who was guilty of bribery among other misfeasances. This brought storms of applause.

The Commons was hopeful. The rot was about to be stopped. They all knew that there was one powerful man who might stand in their way. The Duke of Lancaster. But they had the backing of his elder brother. The Black Prince still lived and from his sick bed he was going to bring the country back to reason and prosperity.


* * *

Riding to his Palace of the Savoy, thinking of the welcome that awaited him there, John was a happy man. Catherine was installed as his mistress and the governess of his children. There was a nursery full now. Her own four little Beauforts as she called them – she had a daughter Joan as well as the three boys – the most loved of all the children because they were her own. Then there were Philippa and Elizabeth, Blanche’s girls, and of course young Henry, his heir, and the most important of them all in the eyes of the world of course. Constanza’s girl Catherine was with her mother but Swynford’s son and daughter, Thomas and Blanche, had joined them now because Catherine had wanted them there, which was natural. He could never really like them because they were Swynford’s he supposed, but the boy was bright and handsome and the girl attractive as was to be expected of any child of Catherine’s.

He was more satisfied than he had been for some time. His triumph at home had grown since he had overcome his repugnance for Alice Perrers and had shown the King that he was ready to accept her in exchange for his confidence. From then on it had been easy. He had his friends such as Lord Latimer and other influential men in Parliament. If the King were to die and the Prince with him, and Richard became King, it would be his uncle, John of Gaunt, who would be the real ruler.

Success at home had wiped out the sour taste of defeat abroad. He never wanted to go back to Bordeaux as long as he lived.

No, what he wanted was England. He did not now want the crown of Castile, that glittering bauble which had proved to be so unattainable. He wanted what he always had wanted, the crown of England. And with a young boy on the throne and himself guiding the country’s policy he would be its virtual ruler.

Once the King was dead Alice could be dismissed. That would make everything so much easier. And how long could the King live? How long the Black Prince?

As he approached the Savoy Palace he saw a crowd of men watching him and his party.

He heard the shout: ‘John of Gaunt. Down with John of Gaunt. Edward, the Black Prince for ever. Banish Alice Perrers. Impeach Latimer. God bless the Black Prince.’

He spurred his horse. He hoped none of the mob was armed. He galloped past them towards the palace. They made no attempt to follow.

His elation had completely passed. The Black Prince was not dead by any means. He was making his presence felt. And he had come out into the open as the enemy of Alice Perrers and his brother.

There was nothing to be done. He must accept it. There would be revolution otherwise. He by no means shared his brother’s popularity. The people had always been against him – and particularly the people of London. How he hated them – these merchants who believed because they were rich they had a right to say how the country should be ruled.

‘Down with John of Gaunt.’ Those words were like the tolling of a warning bell.

He knew as he rode into the palace that bad news awaited him.

It seemed that the Parliament had prevailed; the people were with them. They were called the Good Parliament and the reason was that they had succeeded in removing Latimer from office and banished Alice Perrers from the Court.

The King might weep senile tears for Alice. He might mourn the loss of Latimer but even in his feeble state he could sense the mood of the people.

‘What have they done to us, John?’ he mourned. ‘They have taken away our friends.’

Yes, thought John, they have shown us that the Black Prince is still alive and that while he continues to live we must do as the people wish.

‘What shall I do without Alice?’ moaned the King.

John wanted to say: Find another whore. But he restrained himself. His strength lay in placating his father and by the look of the old man it seemed as though he would not be long for this land.

Nor would the Black Prince.

It was a waiting game, but waiting was something which ambitious men had to accept.


* * *

After his meeting with de la Mare the Black Prince had gone to the palace of Kennington. It was closer to Westminster than Berkhamsted and he was eager to be as near London as possible.

His efforts had taken great toll of his strength and Joan was beside herself with anxiety. He grew excited as he told her what he had been able to achieve. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I must live long enough to see Richard proclaimed as true heir to the throne.’

‘None could deny that he is.’

‘John is wily. I know not what is in his mind.’

‘Surely he can’t have plans to take the throne, to make that Henry of his Prince of Wales!’

‘I do not know what goes on in his mind. I think what he wants is to rule the country and if he cannot wear a crown while he is doing so he will rule without it.’

‘You mean he would take charge of Richard?’

‘I think that is his idea. Jeanette, you will have to guard our boy.’

‘He is not going to be King for many many years. We shall both be here to train him and guide him.’

‘You were always one to deceive yourself when you felt happier doing so.’

‘I was always one to believe in the good that could come to those who sought it. Remember how I married you.’

‘I shall never forget that, dear Jeanette, nor could I forget the years we have had together. They have been good. They gave us our Richard. Oh my Jeanette, that boy fills my thoughts. To think that one day, ere long I know, a crown will be placed on his golden head.’

She stooped and kissed him. ‘Not for many many years, I promise you.’

He sighed. It was no use trying to convince Jeanette.

He had other work to do. He must keep the Good Parliament in power. He must let all those right-thinking men know that he stood with them.

He sent for William of Wykeham, the Bishop of Winchester, who had risen from comparatively humble beginnings and who had always been a close friend of his. Wykeham was a man come to office through his brilliant mind. The Prince had always respected him and he turned to him now because he wished to muster as many trusted men as he could that he might enlist their help for his son when the time came.

Wykeham swore that he would stand by young Richard.

‘I thank you, my lord Bishop,’ said the Prince. ‘As you see I am in a poor state, I cannot believe that many more weeks are left to me.’

The Bishop did not attempt to deny this. He believed it was true and he deplored the fact that such a great man should be so low in health and spirit. He promised to pray for the Prince and he added that he was sure that such a man as he would be received into Heaven.

The Prince replied: ‘That might have been so. I have served my country and would willingly at any time have given my life for it. There was a time though, when the devil took possession of me. Limoges. I shall never get it out of my mind.’

‘Many of us have one black spot on our souls, my lord. Pray for forgiveness. It may be that in recompense for the good you have done the evil will be forgiven.’